


The Low Light

by a_forgotten_note



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Slow Burn, vampires and other miscellaneous creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-04-25 06:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 100,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14373351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_forgotten_note/pseuds/a_forgotten_note
Summary: Fences and borders are put into place for a reason; to keep something in, and to keep something out.For the longest time, Logan Stein has been dealing with the things that try to come over to his side of the fence. It's his duty, so to speak. So when not one - but two things - come climbing through the fence, he's more than prepared to remove them. Or so he thinks.When this task proves too monumental for even him to compete, he's left between a rock and a hard place.To live or not to live? That is the question.





	1. Prologue

                Logan sat back against the metal fence that ran around the perimeter of the cemetery. It was a slow night. Not much to see. He blinked slowly, watching as the dew on the grass evaporated and steamed eerily in the moonlight.

                He liked the quiet nights. Nights where no one and nothing came climbing over the fence. Nights were he could melt into the shadows and pretend he wasn't a glorified watch-dog. He liked those nights. Nights where he could slink back into his house before the sun rose. Nights where he'd be able to pull out a good book and read a bit before he fell asleep. Those were the good nights.

                This...  _this_  was a bad night.

                Soft, careful feet were creeping around the edges of the cemetery. Slow and deliberate like a cat stalking its prey. Logan was unamused. Why did someone come snooping when it was his turn to watch? Why couldn’t Roman play guard-dog? He loved the attention. At least, he loved the constant praise from Patton.

                Roman didn’t give a damn what  _Logan_ thought.

                Tugging himself out of his thoughts, Logan closed his eyes to listen; the footsteps were on the northern edge, now. Close enough to warrant the stiffness of Logan’s muscles, but too far to invite an actual confrontation. At best, whoever or whatever was stalking the cemetery would simply go away, disinterested in the decomposing corpses beneath the dirt. And at the very worst, Logan would have to dispose of another dead body. Either way, he was of benefit. On one hand, a dull, quiet evening. On the other, a free meal. Logan sighed; he’d much rather stay put by the fence and  _ignore_  the interloper.

                Though, it seemed that wasn’t going to be an option.

                He heard new footsteps from the south side of the cemetery. Logan frowned; imperfect, uneven... a favor of the right foot. Human at the very least. He glanced back to the northern edge of the fence, hesitant. Which did he pursue first? Or, should he slink back to the house to request help from Roman or Patton? No, no... that would take too long. Roman and Patton were slow to rise, and both of them enjoyed each other’s company too much to bother with Logan.

                When the fence rattled in irritation, Logan crouched down in the shadows, lurking behind the sheltering mass of a carved Virgin Mary. It was the human, grasping along the tall, rusting bars of the fence and hoisting themselves up and over the edge. Logan frowned. A grave-robber, perhaps? It was unusual in such a small town, but not unheard of. He watched as the human dropped a bag on the other side. It  _clinked_  when it landed on the grass. Logan’s eyes narrowed, and he couldn’t help but crane his neck to see what was inside. Tools? Shovels? Possible paranormal-conspiracy nonsense?

                He leaned back and rested against the base of the statue when the human jumped down onto the grass with a less-than-graceful, “ _oh -- fuck,_ ” Logan wrinkled his nose in distaste. Whatever had been on the northern border of the fence was making another round of the perimeter. Now it was due east. It has paused. Logan blinked; had it heard the human?

                Logan placed his attention on the human once more, watching carefully as they made their way through the grounds as if they were in search of something. For a possible grave-robber, the human was surprisingly delicate with the headstones and statues. Every so often, they would stop and admire one, squinting in the low light to read whatever plaque was situated below an angels’ feet. Logan crept along the shadows as quietly as he could, but the creature that was skirting around the fence was still alerted to his location. It started to follow him and the human on their slow trek through the cemetery.

                When the human came to a stop, it was in front of a small headstone. Logan remembered when they placed it; it had been a middle-aged woman. The family had requested no service. No one attended the burial. It had been a glorified body-dump. Logan narrowed his eyes as the human knelt down and open their bag. He pulled out a bottle of something, and Logan braced himself to pull out his flashlight -- he needed to stop the human before the grave was desecrated. But... something stopped him. Logan’s hand hovered over his flashlight, balancing precariously on the edge of action while the human dug into their bag once more. They pulled out... a bundle of flowers.

                Immersed in curiosity, Logan leaned back in the shadows, watching as the human leaned the bottle against the headstone and put the flowers in the small flower-holder that was nestled in the grass. Then, they sat back and admired their work.

                “Hey mom,” the human mumbled. It was a young man, it would seem. He obviously thought he was alone, but Logan could hear him clearly. The human sat back and wrapped his arms around his legs. “It’s... uh... it’s Virgil. I know it’s late, but... happy birthday.”

                Remaining in the shadows, Logan glanced off toward the far edge of the fence. The creature was inside the cemetery. Slow. Creeping. It  _was_ stalking, now. It knew the human was there... but did it know Logan was there? He reached for his flashlight once more, already starting to stand up straight. He needed to get the human out of the way before he could deal with the other intruder.

                He didn’t get the chance.

                The creature lunged -- faster than Logan had assumed it would be able -- and shot toward the human like a bullet. Logan had spooked it into action. He heard the scream of alarm, the  _thud_  as two bodies went rolling across the grass, and the tear of fabric.

                “Stop!” Logan shouted, turning the flashlight onto the attacker and it’s victim with a flick of his wrist.

                The circular beam of light fell oddly on the struggling bodies in the grass. The human -- Virgil, wasn’t it? -- was fighting with all he had, kicking and scratching at the lumbering being that had him effectively pinned. Logan had feebly hoping that the light would scare away a lesser creature, but in this case, it fueled the flame. Logan hardly had a chance to drop the flashlight before the creature was on top of him. Well... it was better for the creature to try attacking him instead of the human.

                It wasn’t a werewolf, that was certain. Not enough fur for that. It was more human. Not a vampire, of course. The movements of this creature were too jerky... too mindless. Perhaps a ghoul? That would upset Patton.

                These thoughts ran in circles as Logan effortlessly held the snapping jaw of the creature above him out of the way. Part of him was tempted to simply snap the thing’s neck and have done with it. Where was the human? Virgil? Had he run away yet?

                The creature made a mad swipe at Logan with clawed fingers, snarling and snapping their jaw while Logan held their neck with a clenched hand. The claw caught the frames of his glasses and rake across the side of his face, but even as the blood started to well along the lacerations, Logan didn’t loosen his hold. Where was Virgil?

                His answer was presented by a beam of light that fell on both him and the creature. Finally, Logan knew what he was facing. Gray, peeling skin. The black, sunken eyes of something that wanted to be dead but didn’t have the stomach for it. Those sharp teeth, those sharp fingers... definitely a ghoul. A starving one, by the look of it. Logan frowned, holding one of the clawed hands out of the way while he turned his head to find the source of the light. He blinked.

                It was Virgil. Virgil was holding the flashlight, his wide eyes and trembling frame highlighted by the residual glow of the flashlight. He’d been hurt. There was blood smeared on his cheek, and his jacket had been slashed open. Logan was lucky to have stopped the creature before it had the chance to disembowel the poor boy.

                Pasting on a fake, terrified expression, Logan feigned a struggle. “Run!” He screeched, letting the ghoul sink a fisted claw into his thigh. It stung, but it would heal. He let out a howl of pain nonetheless, hoping to frighten Virgil into obeying his human fight-or-flight instincts. “Run!” Logan screamed again, attempting to sound more desperate than his first shout. “Go while you can!”

                The flashlight dropped to the ground, and Virgil was bolting for the fence. Logan stopped struggling and gripped the face of the ghoul. With one quick  _snap_ , the creature fell, limp and lifeless, against his chest. He shoved it off effortlessly, lying back against the grass and listening carefully as Virgil attempted to make his way back to the fence. He was starting to limp. Logan could hear his ragged breathing. The scent of blood was fresh and alluring. Logan swallowed thickly as Virgil’s hands  _clanged_  against the fence. There was a struggle, the slip of a boot against the metal, and then... a heavy, organic,  _thud_ on the grass. Logan sighed. Virgil had fainted.

                Humans were so fragile when they lost blood. Pushing himself up and off the ground, Logan touched his cheek -- the cut was nearly healed already, but the blood was still sticky. He licked the smeared blood on his fingers away, glancing down at the ghoul. He  _could_ let Roman deal with it... but no. Virgil was still in the cemetery. Logan had to deal with him first.

                So, after brushing the dirt and grass off his shirt, Logan sauntered over to the edge of the fence where Virgil lay in a heap on the grass. He’s been hurt more than Logan thought. There was a large cut in his leg. It must’ve come from when the ghoul threw him to the ground. Maybe they hit a gravestone. The smell of the blood was almost strong enough to entice -- almost.

                Logan’s recent meal staved off hunger, and he easily lifted Virgil off the ground, carrying him across the graveyard and approaching the mortuary with a sigh. Virgil’s leg was dripping blood everywhere... there would be blood on the grass. Patton would have to mow again. When he approached the front porch, the living room light flickered to life through the window, lighting Logan’s way. He stood in front of the door, waiting until Patton threw open the door with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. He gave Logan a slow blink, his blue eyes slowly sinking down to see the limp body in his arms. He lifted his eyes to meet Logan’s sleepily.

                “Please tell me he’s not dead,” Patton yawned, waving Logan inside the house and mortuary with a slow motion of his arm.

                “No, there was a ghoul on the loose,” Logan grumbled as he walked Virgil to the back of the house. “It appears to have gotten in a few good hits before I could distract it.”

                Patton stiffened for a moment, but fell into step once more as he sighed, “A quick one, hmm? That’s too bad.”

                Patton opened the door to the body-prepping room, letting out another yawn as Logan shouldered his way inside with Virgil. With no better place to put him, Logan laid Virgil out on the embalming table. Blood started to puddle beneath his leg, dripping down to the holes in the table. Logan quirked an eyebrow; excess blood was always welcome. In the meantime, Logan cut away Virgil’s torn, bloody pant-leg.

                Patton stepped into the room and took a deep breath through his nose, pursing his lips as he looked down at Virgil. “Smells icky.”

                “Smells fresh,” Logan deadpanned in response. Patton made a face at that.

                Logan pulled on a pair of latex gloves, quickly going through the motions of preparing stitches for Virgil’s leg. Distantly, he could hear Roman complaining about  _something_  down the hall. Patton disappeared back into the house to soothe him, leaving Logan to work alone. That was always preferable. He tuned out Roman and Patton’s mutterings as he cleaned Virgil’s leg and quickly stitched the flesh together. Humans were incredibly breakable. It was a miracle they’d become the dominant species over their stronger competition.

                Vampires, werewolves, ghouls, and even wraiths... they were all stronger than human beings. And each of them could happily feast off a human if given the chance. Logan smirked to himself, shaking his head in distaste. The mass genocide of humankind... that was better left to a lesser-brained creature. He was smart enough to know his limits.

                As Logan peeled open a package of gauze, he heard a faint hiss. His brow furrowed. Not Patton... not Roman. He glanced at the head of the table, finding Virgil hazily staring back at him.

                Logan’s hands paused in the air, still holding several layers of cotton between his gloved -- bloody -- fingers. Virgil’s eyes blinked slowly, and his lips parted around a whisper of breath.

                “Your face...” his voice was so soft, Logan wondered if a human ear would even be able to hear it. Logan leaned forward, quirking an eyebrow at Virgil’s sluggish blink. “There was... a... scratch on your face...”

                Logan hummed and leaned back, pressing gauze over the stitches and wrapping the gauze in several layers of cotton dressing. “The cut on my face is healed,” he muttered gently, idly glancing up as Virgil's fingers twitched. He didn’t have the strength to move if he wanted to.

                “Where... where am I?” Virgil sounded like he might be sick, but again, Logan reasoned he wouldn’t have the strength to sit up and vomit. He’d have to make sure Virgil didn’t choke on his own sick. “My... mom...”

                Logan gave Virgil a sparing look. “You are in my home, as well as the town’s mortuary.” He paused, then said, “Your mother’s grave is undisturbed.”

                Virgil’s brow furrowed in confusion, and his eyes fluttered shut. “Mortuary?”

                Logan rolled his eyes. “Yes, a mortuary.”

                Why did humans have such a weak grasp of spacial concepts? Part of Logan was irritated, and the other... well, he was almost amused. No, not amused... Virgil sparked a different feeling.

                Virgil broke into the cemetery to celebrate his deceased mother’s birthday. Virgil didn’t run away when Logan distracted the ghoul. Virgil stopped, petering on the edge of attempting to help Logan. Virgil was... well, in Logan’s mind, he was almost impressive. His actions were so nearly endearing. Logan felt a smile on his lips, and it didn’t go away, not even after he’d disposed of his soiled gloves and wiped the excess blood from Virgil’s face.

                When he finally looked away from Virgil, he found Patton standing in the doorway with a passive smile. Patton cocked his head to the side. “All clean?”

                “Yes,” he sighed, straightening his glasses out of habit. “But now...” he glanced down at Virgil’s closed eyes and slow, steady breathing. “I’m not sure what we should do with him.”

                “Keep him like a sad, wounded pet?” Roman said from behind Patton, his voice lilted toward humor. Patton made a face and swatted at Roman’s hands on his waist.

                “That’s not funny, Roman.” Patton’s nose wrinkled as he looked at Virgil, worry glittering in his eyes behind thick-framed glasses. “We can’t just... leave him out on the curb, can we? That wouldn’t be right.”

                Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “So we keep him  _here_?” He asked incredulously, ignoring Roman’s glare. He quirked an eyebrow as Patton bit his lip. “You really think we should keep him in the  _mortuary_.”

                “No!” Patton said quickly, pointing at the ceiling. “We’ll put him upstairs in the house.” He clasped his hands together anxiously. “We can think of an excuse tonight... and send him on his way in the morning.” He paused, then mumbled, “If we can.”

                It was Roman’s turn to made a face. “Ew... he’s going to stay  _overnight_? The house is going to  _reek_.”

                Patton gave his shoulder a playful nudge. “Just because he doesn’t smell like your cologne, it doesn’t mean he smells.”

                Logan nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. I’d welcome a different stench for a change.” He smiled when Roman held a hand to his breast dramatically. “Anything is better than your perfume.”

                “It’s a  _very_  popular musk, you fanged-menace!” Roman slung an arm around Patton’s shoulders and dragged him away down the hall. “Darling, dearest,  _sweetest_ Patton! My pride is hurt! Come, comfort me.”

                Pursing his lips, Logan watched the couple retreat further down the hall before he turned back to give Virgil’s sleeping form a look. This would be the first time he’d ever had a living human stay the night in the house. It was interesting.

                Troubling, yes. But interesting nonetheless.

                Careful of the stitches he just placed, Logan looped his arm under Virgil’s legs and slowly pulled him up, off of the embalming table. Virgil’s heart rate jumped for a moment -- was he really trying to feign sleep? -- but Logan pretended not to notice. Walking slowly, Logan flicked the light-switch on his way out of the room, carefully climbing the dim stairs on his way to the common living area.

                When he reached the top of the stairs, he could see a sheet pulled over the sofa, accompanied by a feather pillow and a spare blanket. Patton’s doing, no doubt. He lowered Virgil onto the cushions softly, setting his injured ankle on the armrest to keep the stitches from being aggravated. He could hear Patton’s voice in a different room, accompanied by Roman’s suave, coaxing mumbling. He was probably trying to convince Patton to get rid of Virgil while he slept.

                That wasn’t an option. Logan could see it clearly in the way Virgil sat in front of his mother’s headstone. He had a father. If Virgil died tonight, there would be questions. Logan disliked questions he couldn’t answer.

                He draped the spare blanket across Virgil and slipped out of the common area, slinking inside Patton and Roman’s bedroom with a frown. Patton was sitting atop his dressing table with Roman stood nestled between his thighs. Roman was leaning in close, whispering something -- probably sickly sweet -- into Patton’s ear as he braced hands against Patton’s hips. Logan doubted the two of them would notice him if he entered the room blaring an air horn.

                “Pardon the intrusion,” Logan grumbled. Patton started in surprise, his cheeks flaring pink as he smiled sheepishly. His legs clamped tight around Roman’s hips, holding him in place before Roman could chase Logan out of the room. Logan simply leaned against the wall. “I don’t know how much Virgil  _actually_ heard, but he was awake for an unknown amount of our earlier conversation.”’

                “And?” Roman drawled dramatically, leaning in to litter kisses along Patton’s neck. The man in question burst into a fit of giggles, leaving Logan to be the uncomfortable third-wheel. Roman only leaned back to glare at Logan and mumble, “Who  _cares_  what he heard? He’ll be dead by morning anyway.”

                Patton’s giggling abruptly stopped. “No.” He cupped Roman’s cheeks and forced the man to look him in the eye. “We are  _not_  killing Virgil.”

                “Agreed,” Logan said firmly. “We don’t know if he told anyone he’d be here tonight. If he were to go missing on our watch, it will cause more issue than preferable.”

                Roman groaned and dropped his head onto Patton’s shoulder. “This is stupid.”

                “On the contrary,” Logan reasoned irritably. “It is vital that we make a reasonable excuse for Virgil’s injuries. If not, our very existence in this town could be in jeopardy.”

                Patton’s face paled. “I don’t wanna move again.” His hands went up to tangle in Roman’s hair, idly playing with it in an attempt to calm himself. “I like it here.”

                Watching with a passive eye, Logan noticed that Roman’s hands gripped Patton’s hips unhappily. He was caving. Logan sighed heavily.

                “It’s settled,” he said lowly, catching Patton’s tired gaze. “Virgil will be convinced that this... ‘freak accident’ was nothing more than a coincidence. We’ll broach the topic when he’s awake. Until then,” he glanced over at Roman’s displeased pout. “We will behave ourselves as we would with any other human.”

                Roman perked up at that. “So we can --”

                “We will  _not_  kill Virgil,” Patton repeated with a frown. He pinched Roman’s cheek lightly. “We have more than enough food.”

                While Roman started to pout again, Logan rolled his eyes. “Allow me to rephrase... we will behave ourselves as we would with any other human in the light of day.” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “Meaning, we will assimilate his human standards and keep our lives safe. Understood?”

                There was a paused where Roman simply leaned into Patton’s arms, completely ignoring Logan. But when Patton answered, his tone made it clear he was answering for the two of them. “Understood.”


	2. Chapter 1

                When Virgil’s bag hit the floor of the living room, Logan didn’t lift his eyes from his newspaper. There was something interesting about a politician’s daughter going missing during his campaign for Governor. It was a fascinating case. No leads on who had taken her. Rumors were spreading that she’d eloped with her girlfriend. Police were baffled by the lack of evidence. Human mysteries were so simple and trite… it was almost like reading a bedtime story.

                Across the room, Roman kicked Virgil’s bag onto its side.

                “He didn’t bring much with him… and his choice of beverage is deplorable. I mean, strawberry champagne?” Roman made an odd gagging sound as he held up the bottle, and Logan rolled his eyes, pointedly lifting his paper to avoid seeing the man’s obnoxious face. “If someone is drinking strawberry champagne, they’re either dead or dying. It would _kill_ me to drink this garbage.”

                Logan tried to bite his tongue, but couldn’t help muttering, “You _are_ dead, Roman.”

                “Well, good for me.” Roman sauntered across the room, pivoting his hips and smiling victoriously as he dropped Virgil’s bottle of champagne into the waste bin. Logan heard the glass break, but didn’t comment as Roman proudly announced: “I don’t have to drink this.”

                Slowly, Logan lowered his paper and gave Roman a tired look. “No one was going to force you to drink it, you simpleton.” His eyes slid back to the sofa where Virgil had laying, quiet and unconscious, for the past half an hour. He sighed and folded his newspaper. “Is Patton done with the ghoul, yet?”

                Roman’s smile drooped as he tapped his foot, irritated by the question. “You know how he gets about cleaning up ghouls. Why didn’t _you_ take care of it?”

                “Because I’m the only one Virgil knows in this household,” Logan reasoned. Roman snorted derisively, but Logan ignored him. “If I were still outside, cleaning up the body, and Virgil woke up with a strange man and his…” he gave Roman a vague wave, “ _Irritating_ companion, what do you think he’d do?”

                Roman let out a shocked gasp as he held a hand to his breast. “You are _full_ of insults tonight. But… I suppose you’re right. I guess.” He leaned over the edge of the sofa to give Virgil’s sleeping form a disdainful look. “Humans are so _jumpy_.”

                Logan crossed his legs and sat back in his armchair. “You say that like you didn’t used to be human… what’s the matter, Roman? Is your humanity a dark-mark on your past?”

                Roman narrowed his eyes. “I’ll dark-mark _your_ past.”

                “That doesn’t make any sense, Roman.” Logan adjusted his glasses, listening carefully as the front door opened and closed slowly. Patton was back. Roman noticed it, too, and he slipped through the floor to greet him. Logan could hear the interaction clearly, and sat back quietly as they spoke.

                “Welcome back, my beloved. Are you alright?” Roman’s voice was gentle. He only spoke like that to Patton. That was fine. Logan didn’t care for Roman’s bedroom eyes, anyway.

                “I feel gross,” Patton sounded exhausted. Logan quirked an eyebrow; had Patton _eaten_ the ghoul, or did he just bury it? Patton gave away no details as he made his way around the first floor of the house. “Has the human woken up?”

                Roman made a low, sickened noise. “No. And now the entire house smells like blood and sweat.”

                Patton laughed at that. “Aw, don’t get bent out of shape, Ro. I’m sure Logan has a great plan.”

                Logan pursed his lips with a frown. He _didn’t_ have a plan, though it was almost endearing that Patton assumed he did. There were too many unplanned variables for Logan to sort through… how much did Virgil remember? Did he even recall seeing the ghoul? Could they brush off the entire incident by saying Virgil simply fell off the fence and hit his head? Logan’s foot tapped on the floor as he thought, glancing at Virgil’s bag on the floor.

                They _could_ say that the bottle of champagne was broken when Virgil hit the ground, and the glass cut his leg. If that worked, it was best that Roman threw the bottle away. Logan nodded to himself. Broken glass, an unfortunate tumble… that could work. He glanced up when Patton ascended the stairs looking harried and a little worse-for-wear. There was blood on his shirt. Large, smeared patches that spread from his collar to his stomach. Logan quirked an eyebrow. Patton hated eating ghouls, and yet it looked like he’d devoured the thing. He must’ve been hungrier than he’d let on.

                “Logan,” Patton said softly, already unbuttoning his dress shirt as he made his way to his room. “Any ideas?”

                “A few,” Logan replied readily, drumming is fingers against his thigh. Patton slipped into his room and Roman quickly followed, trailing after Patton like a lovesick puppy. Slightly raising his voice, Logan kept an eye on Virgil as he spoke. “He fell from the fence. The bottle of champagne in his bag broke and cut his leg.”

                Roman’s voice echoed dryly as he said, “How unfortunate. The poor, poor human.” Then, there was a slight _thud_ accompanied by Roman’s indignant, “ _Ow_!”

                Patton walked back into the living room, dressed in a clean, pink shirt. He gave a Virgil a sad, considering look. “You think he’ll take that at face-value? I don’t like having to lie more than I have to…”

                “Of _course_ he will,” said Roman as stepped into the room, rubbing his arm with a pout. “He’s got that gullible look to him… I bet we could tell him he was hit by a bus, and he’d believe us.” When Roman sat in the loveseat, he pat the top of his thigh until Patton came to sit in his lap. The three sat in peaceable silence for a few moments, each giving the only living being in the room a long, spectating look. Roman sighed and leaned into Patton. “Really, is this necessary? Couldn’t we have just left him for the ghoul?”

                Patton cradled Roman’s head against his chest, running his fingers through Roman’s light brown – and slightly gray – hair. “In a little town like this, it’s certain that he would be missed. I don’t want to make anyone more suspicious of us than they already are.”

                “Patton’s right,” Logan said with a sigh. He set his newspaper aside. “We are three strange men who run a mortuary and funeral service… we came out of nowhere into a small town with no previous roots in the area.” Logan adjusted his glasses and gave the human – no, Virgil was his name – a sharp look. “We need to improve our moral standing with these people. I recommend aiding this… young man… and helping him back to his proper home once he’s in good physical standing.”

                Patton perked up at that. “Like treating an injured bird!” Roman gave him a confused look, and Patton poked his nose playfully. “My little sister Shelly used to do that. She’d find these little songbirds that fell from the nest and nurse them back to health… and let them fly free when they got better.” He paused, and his smile drooped a little. “I miss her.”

                Roman wrapped his arms around Patton’s middle, pulling him closer as he took up one of Patton’s hands. “If that’s what you think we should do, my heart,” he kissed the back of Patton’s hand softly. “Then I won’t put up a fight.”

                Logan rolled his eyes. “So, it’s settled. We rehabilitate the hu –” he paused, then corrected himself. “We rehabilitate _Virgil_ , and send him off without hesitation. We are all clear on the story?”

                Patton nodded, resting his cheek against Roman’s hair. “He fell from the fence and cut his leg.”

                “And probably hit his head,” Roman muttered unhappily.

                Logan nodded in approval before standing from his chair and dusting off his trousers. “I’ll be going back outside, then.”

                “Is it really necessary?” Patton asked softly, shifting in Roman’s lap. Roman didn’t comment, but he did give Logan a curious look as Patton said, “Our territory is pretty clearly marked, and attacks are already rare. With that one stray ghoul out of the way, I really don’t think we’re in any danger.”

                Logan narrowed his eyes. “And you’d like me to go by _your_ judgement?”

                Roman’s absentminded gaze turned steely, and he held Patton a little closer. “What are you implying, Logan?”

                “I’m implying nothing. I am attempting to state a fact,” Logan said clearly as he rounded the living room. Virgil was still laid out on the sofa. Still breathing deep and slow. Logan gave him a quick look before turning back to Patton. “How old are you, Patton?”

                Patton hesitated. “One hundred and twenty-eight years old.”

                Logan adjusted his tie. “And how old am I?”

                Patton pressed his face into Roman’s hair and mumbled, “Two hundred and fifty-seven.”

                “Quite right.” Logan took his keys from the tabletop and headed for the stairs. “I am far more knowledgeable about these attacks than you. Please keep that in mind for future reference.”

                Roman didn’t bother lowering his voice when he spoke to Patton. “I _hate_ when he speaks to you like that, beloved… are you alright?”

                Patton sounded a little shaky when he sighed, “He’s right, though. He’s been around a lot longer than me. And this _is_ his house. We need to respect his wishes.” Patton sounded terribly tired when Logan opened the front door. Logan paused, listening carefully as Patton murmured in finality, “Logan knows best.”

                Logan nodded in approval as he stepped outside, letting the front door creak shut behind him.

+++++

                Logan watched Patton go through the motions of making coffee. He idly wondered what it tasted like to a human tongue… Patton said it was bitter. But then, if he disliked it so, why did he drink it? To look average? To seem like any other human? Patton often prepared coffee for clients who had lost someone… he said it helped their nerves, but it helped them stay alert and choose what they wanted their funeral service to entail.

                Logan didn’t care about any of that. All he did was prepare the body for burial. He sat back in his armchair as Patton swayed through the kitchen with a carafe of coffee in his hand. Roman was at his heels, complimenting and flirting his way through their conversation. Virgil was still laid up on the sofa.

                After closer inspection, it became clear that Virgil was hurt more than was previously assumed. The long hours had given Virgil’s body to process the trauma, leaving patterns of purple and blue bruises along his temple where the ghoul had slammed him into the ground, no doubt. There were also yellowing splotches around his leg, notes of blunt force and desperate claws that made way for gaping skin. The gauze over the stitches was tainted a light, translucent pink. The wound had been deeper than they’d assumed. There must’ve been more bleeding than they’d thought. At that though, Logan’s finger twitched along his newspaper, and he turned the page to hide the involuntary action.

                When Virgil woke, they could explain the ‘accident’ and send him on his way. Though, the normal human waking hour of seven a.m. had come and passed, leaving Logan tired and irritable. The sun had risen, and light streamed through the curtains softly. Logan had resorted to pulling his chair across the room to avoid the sunshine. It never failed to make his skin blister. He glared at Virgil over the edge of his paper; why wasn’t he awake yet?

                As if on cue, Virgil stirred. It was just a flicker of pain in his expression at first, then a low, aching groan came from the back of his throat. Patton’s ministrations in the kitchenette ceased, and Roman froze in place. Instantly, Roman was gone. Either back to his crypt or hiding in Patton’s bedroom… either way, he was _not_ staying to greet Virgil.

                Patton made up for his lack of presence by swinging into motion. He jogged up to the sofa, kneeling down beside Virgil’s head and gently saying, “Hey… good to see you’re awake.”

                Virgil jerked at the sound of Patton’s voice, and his eyes opened slowly as he blearily looked around the room. He looked disoriented. That wasn’t surprising. He was in unfamiliar territory. Logan set his paper aside as Patton put a gentle hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

                “No, no… don’t get up. You took quite the tumble last night.” His voice sounded genuinely concerned as he murmured, “I’m Patton. Patton Jenkins. Do you remember what happened last night?”

                Virgil gave Patton a confused look before his gaze slid over to Logan. His stare lingered longer than Logan liked, and he frowned at Virgil’s perturbed expression. After a few long seconds, Virgil finally whispered, “Your face…”

                Logan raised his eyebrows and crossed his legs. “My face?”

                “There was a scratch…” Virgil breathed, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. “On your face... there was this… this _thing_ …” he glanced at Patton in confusion. “It attacked me.” He then pointed to Logan. “And him… it jumped on him. I thought it was gonna kill me.”

                Patton, startled by Virgil’s memory retention, glanced back at Logan, desperate for an out. Logan simply sat back in his chair, feigning ignorance.

                “I don’t understand… nothing attacked you.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “I heard something outside, and when I went to investigate, I found you on the ground inside the fence.” He gestured to Virgil’s leg. “The bottle in your bag broke and cut open your leg. You’re _very_ lucky I know how to give stitches.”

                Virgil frowned and tried to sit up. Patton pushed him back against the sofa cushions, and Virgil slapped his hands away. “I _know_ what I _saw_ ,” he grumbled unhappily. “It was… some kinda crazy monster. It almost killed me!”

                Logan had a poker-face that could outlast any human, and continued to play dumb. Patton, however, was visibly cracking. “N-now, calm down! You’ve been through a pretty rough night. You should relax. We don’t know how hard you hit your head when you fell –”

                “I didn’t fall!” Virgil spat, pushing away Patton’s hands as he fought to sit up. Logan’s eye twitched at the scent of fresh blood. Virgil had pulled at his stitches. The human didn’t let that stop him as he struggled into an upright position. “I’m not stupid. I heard you guys.”

                Patton paled as he stood up and took a few liberal steps away from the sofa. Away from Virgil. Logan gave him a sidelong glanced before he looked back to Virgil. It seemed that the boy was going to be stubborn. A hard sell, some might say. Logan lifted his chin. He appreciated a challenge.

                “Is there someone we can call for you, Virgil? You seem to be experiencing some sort of… psychological issue.” He reached for his cell phone. “Perhaps your concussion is worse than we previously assumed…”

                “You guys said you were gonna make up a story,” Virgil hissed, and Patton gripped the back of Logan’s chair uneasily. Logan frowned at the movement. Patton was a terrible liar, and each second spent with Patton in the room was another second that Virgil didn’t believe them. Grunting slightly, Virgil lifted his wounded leg and set his foot on the ground carefully. He looked back and forth between Logan and Patton, eyes narrowed and distrusting. “Who _are_ you people? And what was that thing?”

                “I… I’m… Patton Jenkins,” Patton sputtered listlessly. “I’m just a funeral director.”

                “And I’m Logan Stein,” Logan said officially. “I am a mortician.” He gave Patton a stern look over his shoulder. “Perhaps a cup of coffee would help, Patton?”

                Skittering toward the kitchenette – he must’ve been happy to escape the conversation – Patton busied himself with the coffeemaker as Virgil continued to glare at Logan.

                “What happened last night?” Virgil asked lowly.

                “You fell from the fence, I assume,” Logan lied easily. “I found you on the ground.”

                "I don’t believe you,” Virgil growled, his eyes dark and narrowed. “You were there. That thing attacked you, too. What was it?”

                “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Logan said evenly. “Perhaps you are experiencing some sort of psychotic break. Patton,” he called to the kitchen, seeing Patton’s wide and fretful eyes. “I think we should call for an ambulance.”

                “Stop lying! _I know what I saw_!” Virgil shouted, struggling to push himself off of the couch. He stood for a second on wobbling feet, and Logan watched, unimpressed, as the blood drained from Virgil’s face and he collapsed on the floor.

                Patton squeaked and flew to Virgil’s side, lifting the boy up and back onto the couch. Logan stayed in his seat, his mind whirling with irritation and a flurry of damage-control options. Virgil remembered _much_ more than they’d hoped. He was convinced he’d seen something. Which, in all honesty, he _had_. They needed to convince him that it was a dream or a hallucination. Perhaps a figment of his imagination. Could they blame it on drugs? Alcohol? No, Virgil had nothing of the sort on his person, and his blood was free of toxins. Logan clenched his jaw, and he felt one of his teeth pierce the soft flesh of his cheek.

                Patton didn’t look up from Virgil’s pale face as he murmured, “That didn’t work…”

                “No. It didn’t.” Logan stood from his chair, pacing the living room with a tired, agitated bounce in his step. Roman lingered in the doorway of Patton’s bedroom, half-corporeal and glaring at Virgil’s limp body on the sofa. Logan gave him a half-hearted scowl. “And _where_ were _you?_ Of the three of us, you are the most theatric. You _know_ Patton can’t lie, and your contribution would have been invaluable.”

                Roman shrunk back in the doorway, his pale face and sunken eyes emphasized in the shadowed room. He softly mumbled, “Stage-fright,” as his only excuse.

                “Oh, the prima donna has _stage-fright_?” Logan spat angrily.

                From the sofa, Patton shot Logan a glare. “Don’t get mad at him, Logan. Roman didn’t do anything wrong.”

                Logan threw his hands into the air. “Well, what are we going to say?” He gave Patton an exasperated wave of his hand. “You are absolutely no help in convincing him. He already knows we lied.”

                Patton’s eyes flitted from Logan to Virgil a few times. “What if he goes to the police and reports what he saw and heard?”

                Roman stepped into the living room, fully corporeal and looking as if he was going to throw Virgil out of the window. “He won’t get that far,” he rolled up his billowing, white shirt sleeves with a dark glint in his eye. “We just need to get rid of him before anyone discovers he was here.”

                Logan stepped in his path. “No, absolutely not. Virgil had a portable telephone in his backpack.” He gestured to the bag that was now sitting on the coffee table. “Can’t those be tracked to their last known location by some…” he waved his hand flippantly. “Some sort of… satellite?”

                Roman huffed and crossed his arms. “I don’t know! The latest and greatest technology in my day was the telegraph!”

                “Oh! I heard of the satellites!” Patton piped up, wiggling his fingers dramatically. “They use signals from the phones and they go into outer space!”

                Roman looked positively lovesick when he sighed, “Oh, you are _so_ intelligent, my darling. Simply fantastic. Tell me more?”

                Before Patton could open his mouth to describe electromagnetic waves – Logan had read about them once or twice – Logan held up his hand. “Now is _not_ the time to be talking about the function of modern portable telephones.”

                “Smart phones,” Virgil’s voice was low and gravelly as he spoke, and all three men turned to look at him. His eyes were still closed, but his brow was furrowed in confusion. “You can just call them ‘smart phones.’ Or cell phones. Why do you have to make it so complicated?”

                With a slight whisper of sound, Roman was gone. Logan glanced over at the space he once occupied, eyeing the faint flutter of dust that floated to the ground in his wake. Virgil didn’t seem to mind the disappearance, though. He simply held a hand to his forehead.

                “You guys are _really_ bad at lying, by the way,” Virgil grumbled. Patton ducked his head sheepishly, and Logan frowned. He was being insulted by an inferior creature. A mortal one, at that. One that was living. And breakable. And _less_ than him. Logan furiously straightened his tie, combatting the urge to shake Virgil into compliance. Patton simply knelt next to the sofa, his hands fluttering over Virgil’s arm, trying to keep him in place. Virgil sighed. “Look… I’m not gonna go crazy and try to get the police involved. This is _way_ beyond police. I don’t know who… or _what_ you guys are. But…” he sat up uneasily, using Patton for support as his gaze landed on Logan. “That thing almost killed me, but… you saved my life. And… and I think you guys owe me an explanation.”

                Logan felt his patience wearing thin. He didn’t want to humor a human. He wanted to know all of their deep, dark secrets? He’d have to become one of them or die trying. Patton, however, seemed more than overjoyed to spill his heart.

                “Oh, thank goodness,” Patton laughed, fanning himself theatrically. “I’m a terrible liar. I didn’t think I could keep it up.”

                Virgil grinned at that, huffing a little sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, I got that… good try, though.”

                “Aw, thanks, kiddo!” Patton cooed, sitting back on his heels.

                On that note, Roman materialized in the room once more, pushing past Logan with a dramatic flourish of his arm. He swept up to Patton, pulling him up and away from Virgil. With a hint of melodrama, he dipped Patton back, holding one of Patton’s hands to his lips.

                "If the human is to know _anything_ , it is that _I,_ Roman Prince, am _madly_ in love with you,” he said with a passionate lilt in his voice. Swinging Patton upright – Logan could see the hazy, lovestruck look in Patton’s hazel eyes – Roman turned to glare at Virgil. “And the _human_ ,” he said sharply, “Shouldn’t try to encroach on the delicate territory that is your heart.”

                Virgil stared at Roman with his mouth agape, but Logan doubted it was in fear. After all, humans rarely saw people appear from nowhere. Was he in shock? Logan quirked an eyebrow, watching as Virgil leaned back against the sofa cushions.

                “Chill. I’m not trying to horn in on your turf,” Virgil said lowly, holding his hands up in surrender when Roman narrowed his eyes. Virgil shifted on the sofa, giving him a considering look. “If… you’re not human, what _are_ you?”

                At that, Roman was surprisingly struck speechless. His lips clamped shut, and he raised his chin in defiance. Logan rolled his eyes. Roman was always too proud for his own good.

                “He’s a wraith,” Logan said tiredly. Roman turned to glare at him, but Logan ignored it. “Based on the inscription on his family crypt, he died in 1874.”

                Virgil let out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “So… ghost. You’re a ghost.”

                Gasping dramatically, Roman held a hand to his breast. “I am _much_ more than a ghost, you ignorant little…” he waved a hand at Virgil, “What are you? Thirteen years old?”

                Virgil made a face at that. “I’m twenty-two, smartass.”

                “Whatever. I’m more than a ghost.” Roman pulled Patton into his arms, eliciting a peel of giggles from the shorter man. “I am strong and tangible, unlike those uncultured _spirits_.”

                “Okay… so now monsters and ghosts _and_ weird, horny wraiths exist. That’s…” Virgil took a breath and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “This is not how I expected this to go.”

                Roman nuzzled Patton’s cheek with his nose while murmuring, “We’d be happy to put you out of your misery if reality is too startling.”

                “No,” Logan and Patton said in unison. Roman looked irritated by the dismissal, and quickly went to work comforting himself by clinging to Patton. The man in question simply smiled and pet Roman’s hair, giving Logan a sorry look.

                Virgil scratched the back of his neck. “So, like… what _was_ that thing? Like, out there? Last night?” He looked to Logan, obviously hoping for a straight answer. “It wasn’t another… wraith, right? It didn’t even _look_ human.”

                Logan adjusted his glasses and sat back down in his armchair. It seemed he wouldn’t be going to sleep any time soon. This was irritating, but he didn’t comment on that. Virgil was right… now that he knew this much, he deserved a proper explanation.

                “No, it wasn’t a wraith. It was a ghoul.” Virgil made a face that showed zero understanding, and Logan sighed. “A ghoul is a creature that is midway between human and undead. A… shall we say, amalgamation of the two. They are commonly unstable, unpredictable, and untamable.”

                Virgil squirmed where he sat, glancing down at his leg. “And… one of those attacked me?” He swallowed thickly when Logan nodded, and scratched the back of his head anxiously. “Jesus… where… where did it _come_ from?”

                Logan watched from the corner of his eye when Patton and Roman sat in the loveseat. Patton was listening to the conversation, but only just… his main focus was staring pointedly at Roman’s chest, playing with the loose ties on his shirt. Roman pet Patton’s hair gently, trying to soothe him. Logan looked away. He knew Patton disliked this kind of conversation, but they were too far gone to stop now.

                “Ghouls don’t _come_ from anywhere. They are made.”

                Virgil made a face. “Like Frankenstein?”

                Logan blinked. Ah, he was referring to the brilliant work of Mary Shelley. A phenomenal book. Logan hadn’t read it in some time. Shaking his head, Logan leaned back in his chair.

                “No, not like that. There are certain ways for human beings to be transformed into vampires. It involves specific sacrifices, rituals, and a very strong vampire to master the transformation.” He crossed his legs while Patton leaned heavily against Roman. “If the ritual is done incorrectly, or if the vampire cannot contain the power of the netherworld that they conjure, the resulting change is… well, the human is no longer human. But they are not a vampire, either. They are incomplete. A ghoul.”

                Letting out a long, tired breath, Virgil stared at the floor. “That is a fuck-ton of info you just dropped, Specs.”

                While Patton made an indignant noise at Virgil’s use of profanity, Logan wrinkled his nose. Specs? Was that supposed to be him? Specs… as in spectacles? His glasses. Virgil was commenting on his glasses. Logan quirked an eyebrow at that. This boy was incredibly brave to be mocking a vampire. Brave… or incredibly stupid. He’d have to wait and see which Virgil proved to be.

                Virgil sat forward, drawing the attention from the room. “So… ghouls. Vampires just… take people and…” he spread his hands. “Make them evil monsters that just… roam free?”

                “Not all of them,” Patton said quickly. Logan gave him a half-interested look, and Patton shrunk back into Roman’s waiting arms. “Not all ghouls are mindless. It depends on how they were changed.”

                Virgil sighed and rubbed his neck tiredly. “Okay, so… that one last night. Did one of you…” he trailed off awkwardly, letting his question linger in the air uncomfortably.

                Logan pursed his lips. “No, the ghoul did not belong to us.”

                “It didn’t _belong_ to anyone,” Patton grumbled unhappily. Logan ignored this, and Virgil didn’t seem to hear it.

                “What… what happened to it?” Virgil asked quietly. Patton went a little pale, turning his face into Roman’s shoulder. Roman didn’t speak. He simply watched Logan. Virgil followed his stare, and Logan found himself the main focus of the room. Virgil asked again. “What happened to the… the person that was the ghoul?”

                Logan didn’t hesitate. Nor did he sugarcoat. He stated facts.

                “The ghoul is dead. The person that _used_ to exist within the ghoul is gone. I said ghouls are unpredictable, but that was only partially-correct. Ghouls follow the cycle of the moon, like most nether-creatures. When they step into the moonlight, they are no longer the people they used to be.” He straightened his glasses factually. “They are mindless, bloodthirsty creatures. Whoever that thing _used_ to be, they’d already forgotten.”

                For several minutes, the house was quiet. Virgil’s gaze lowered to the floor, and he almost looked ashamed. Why was that? Logan narrowed his eyes. Did he somehow feel responsible for the actions of a mindless creature? Logan heaved a tired sigh. Humans were far too tedious… and he was staying up _much_ later than he normally did. But who could possibly sleep when there was a nosy human jutting into their lives? Logan took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly; this was going to be a much longer day than he’d anticipated.

                “Uh… is he okay?” Virgil’s voice was pitched toward curiosity rather than concern, and Logan put his glasses on to note that Virgil was looking directly at him. Logan raised his eyebrows. Intriguing. The human was concerned about _him_.

                Patton pasted on a fake smile and nodded. “Logan is just tired. It’s past his bedtime.”

                Logan twitched at that. Bedtime sounded incredibly juvenile when Patton said it. Virgil seemed to find it interesting enough.

                “What are you? Nocturnal?” Virgil asked. Before Logan could open his mouth to respond, Virgil leaned forward with wide, fascinated eyes. “Wait. You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

                Logan sighed. “Yes, I am.”

                Virgil sat back with a satisfied smile. “Awesome… to think I never really believed any of the conspiracies were real, but… here you are. Real. Right in front of me.”

                “Yes, yes. It’s all _utterly_ fascinating,” Roman drawled with a roll of his eyes. “But what _I_ want to know is: when are you leaving?”

                “Roman!” Patton gave his lover a dissatisfied nudge. “That’s not how you treat a guest.”

                “He’s not a _guest_ ,” Roman grumbled. “He’s a _pest_.”

                “Oh, that was hurtful… but it rhymed.” Patton pinched Roman’s cheek fondly. Roman preened at the praise, practically glowing as he smiled victoriously at Virgil. Virgil, however, merely rolled his eyes. Logan smiled at that. He was starting to like this human. Patton’s voice was soft as he whispered to Roman, “It’s not nice to be mean, though.”

                Logan stepped into the conversation before it could slide any further off track. “Virgil will stay until he is well enough to leave. Of course, if he is well enough to leave _now_ ,” he gave Virgil a pointed glance. “That would also be fine.”

                Virgil shifted uneasily. “I… um. I don’t really have a car, but –”

                “I do!” Patton said quickly, much to Roman’s displeasure. “I have a car! I’d be happy to drive you home, kiddo.”

                Virgil hesitated, but continued nonetheless. “ _But_ , my roommate could probably come pick me up. We go to college in the city together.” He reached for his bag on the table, wincing at the strain in his bruised muscles, and fished his cell phone out of the front pocket. “I just need to give him a call…”

                “Virgil,” Logan said sternly, gaining the attention of the younger man. He looked oddly calm as he held his phone in his lap. Logan tapped his index finger against his knee tiredly. “You do realize that what you know is _highly_ secretive. After all, human beings are a volatile species. If the rest of your kind were to know of our existence, well…” He gave Virgil a look over the frame of his glasses. “It would not end well for either side.”

                Setting his phone aside, Virgil leaned back in his seat. “So… what? You gonna swear me to secrecy?” Or are you gonna kill me?

                Logan cocked his head to the side, more intrigued than irritated. “You are oddly relaxed. This is a very serious matter.”

                Virgil nodded. “I know. It’s just…” he shrugged tiredly. “Home life wasn’t a piece of cake. My dad was an asshole. I’ve been looking over my shoulder since I was ten. Plus, I’m in college,” Virgil sighed. “I’m pretty much stressed 24/7. This whole thing…” he indicated to the house and its inhabitants. “This is just a dollop of whipped-fuck on the shit-cake.”

                “All right, that’s enough of that crass language!” Patton said sternly, standing up and shaking his finger at Virgil in a scolding manner. “I’ll have none of that in my home, young man!” Logan cleared his throat, and Patton paused before correcting himself. “I’ll have… none of that… in _Logan’s_ home.”

                "Our home,” Roman said with a grin, and Logan fought back a smile. He’d never admit it aloud, but living with Roman and Patton was… nice. It was better than being alone. He’d done that for too long, thank you. He required a small amount of interaction.

                However… now a human was added to the mix. How did that bode with their fragile dynamic? Logan watched as Patton scolded Virgil with a very serious expression, listing off the ways he could punish Virgil for his words. Virgil didn’t seem bothered by the threats. In fact, he almost seemed amused. Logan bit back another smile. This human was almost as cynical as he.

                “Regardless of Virgil’s use of profanity,” Logan said crisply. “I think it would be best if we were to create some sort of mutual agreement.” He crossed his legs – left over right – as Virgil gave him a half-interested look. “You must not speak a word of what you know, Virgil. Everything you’ve seen. Everything you’ve heard. It will never leave this property.”

                Virgil narrowed his eyes. “Okay… and what do I get?”

                “Mutual reassurance that we won’t kill you.” Logan adjusted his glasses, admiring the fearful glint that flashed through Virgil’s eyes. “Simple as that.”

                “Kinda one-sided, but I get it,” Virgil grumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. “I mean… it makes sense you don’t want anyone to know what you are.” He sighed and glanced up at Patton and Roman. “It’s just… now what do I do? Now that I know, I mean? What happens now?”

                Logan quirked an eyebrow. “Well, you’re never going to speak of this again, so I’d recommend that you forget this ever happened.”

                “Yeah, ‘cuz _that’s_ going to happen,” Virgil deadpanned. Logan didn’t smother his smile at that one. Virgil gave him a grin in return. “I’m more worried about these ghouls that are runnin’ around.”

                “It’s not like the world is full of ghouls,” Patton mumbled gently as he sat down with Roman once more. “It’s rare for one to come so far into our territory.” He smiled at Virgil sadly. “You’re safe now, I’m sure.”

                “You don’t _sound_ very sure,” Virgil said lowly. “I mean… you guys have ways of defending yourselves. You’re a wraith,” he pointed at Roman, then at Logan and Patton. “And you guys are vampires? I mean, you don’t have to be worried about crazy monsters on the loose.”

                Patton stiffened. “I hate to correct you there, kiddo. But I am _one_ of those ‘monsters on the loose.’” The room went quiet. Logan gave Patton a considering glance. The man looked irritated. Not a surprise, really. If Logan had been called a monster several times over, he’d be furious. Patton, however, was excellent at hiding his emotions. He leaned back against Roman, a subtle, unhappy glare in his eye as he looked at Virgil. “I think, as a ghoul, I can tell you that you should be safe for a while.”

                Logan narrowed his eyes. “Though you are a ghoul, Patton, I think it’s fair to say that you don’t know _everything_ that is in store for Virgil’s future. No one can predict the outcome and possibilities of everything. There are too many unknown variables in this situation. The first being: who created the ghoul that attacked us last night?”

                Patton shifted uncomfortably, only smiling when Roman leaned close to kiss his neck. After a lighthearted giggle, Patton gathered his wits and gave Virgil a serious look. “We could keep an eye on you, Virgil. If that would make you feel better.”

                Logan quirked an eyebrow. Now they were going to babysit the human? Safeguard him from wandering ghouls and irresponsible vampires? Virgil seemed unimpressed by this as well.

                “I mean, I appreciate the offer, but… what would you do?” Virgil held out his hands helplessly. “Follow me around all day and night?”

                “Ugh, why would we follow you around during the _day_?” Roman groaned, tucking his face into Patton’s neck again. “Most nether-creatures are nocturnal.”

                Logan sighed. “Yes. But, like Patton and I, there is always the possibility that someone has adapted to human standards. There could be other cultured and controlled ghouls as well as vampires maintaining a presence in nearby towns.”

                Virgil snorted. “That’s… comforting. I’m in danger all the time. Awesome.”

                Taking off his glasses, Logan let out a low hum and rubbed his eyes. “For the time being, I may agree with Patton. You should be fine without us for the foreseeable future.”

                Pausing to give Logan a long look, Virgil pursed his lips. “Okay… yeah, I get it. If I see anything weird, should I just… come find you guys, then?”

                Logan opened his mouth to say reject that idea. If Virgil were to see anything dangerous, there wouldn’t be enough time for him for find them. Whatever – or whoever – he saw would probably kill Virgil before he could even pull out his cell phone. Patton had a different opinion.

                “Call us any time!” Patton said exuberantly. “Day or night. I’m normally around the house during the day,” he then pointed at Logan. “And Logan is always awake at night. So, whenever you need us, we’re right here.”

                “Excellent,” Logan deadpanned. “So, it’s settled. Virgil will go on living his daily life as usual, and we will ‘do the same.” He sent Virgil a glance. “Separately.”

                “Oh, Logan. Don’t be a downtrodden Debby.” Patton leaned forward to give Virgil’s knee a soft, comforting pat. “Really, Virgil. You know our little secret… the least we can do is keep an eye on you.”

                Tossing Patton an unbridled glare, Logan forced himself to stay seated. Enjoying the human’s company was _one_ thing. Now they were going to be his guard dog? They had their _own_ home to safeguard. Logan gripped the armrests of his chair while Virgil gave Patton a tired smile.

                “Thanks, um…” Virgil shifted uncomfortably. “Patrick, right?”

                Patton laughed. “No, no… I’m Patton! I’m Patton Jenkins, and this,” he indicated to Roman with a flourish of his hand. “This is Roman Prince.”

                Roman threw an arm around Patton, pulling him close for good measure. “I am his most beguiled _lover_.” Roman said with a low, gravelly voice. Logan sighed at the needless melodrama, and Virgil smirked at Roman’s serious expression. “So… don’t get any funny ideas, little boy.”

                Reaching for his phone, Virgil gave Roman a slow nod. “Got it. No funny ideas about Patton. Sure thing, man.” He tapped his phone screen a few times, his lips still quirked up in an amused smile as he said, “I’m gonna ask my roommate if he can pick me up.”

                “Good. Then, I assume you’ll be leaving for the foreseeable future,” Logan said stiffly. Patton gave him a disapproving look. Logan ignored it and stood from his chair. “Then I will be retiring to bed. Patton,” he gave the younger man a look under the edge of his glasses. “Be sure to keep on eye on Virgil until his… friend… comes to retrieve him”

                With that, Logan turned his back on Virgil, loosening his tie and heading toward his bedroom. Once the door was safely closed, he pulled of his tie and hung it on the small wrack of ties he owned in the corner of the room. The curtains were drawn, heavy and sheltering, which left Logan’s room in a state of deep, comforting darkness. He sighed and toed off his shoes, opening his coffin and hearing the _click_ of the latch as it swung open.

                He could hear Virgil’s voice through the door, low and cautious as he explained his accident at the cemetery gate. Then, he heard Patton giving the street address of the mortuary, insisting that the roommate take his time and that there was “no rush” for Virgil to go anywhere. Logan rolled his eyes and removed his glasses. Patton was always too much of a people-pleaser. Being so friendly and considerate took too much time. And it sounded exhausting. Logan was just fine being brass and straightforward. It was his nature. It always had been… and it always would be.

                Tucking his glasses into the silk pocket that lined the top of his coffin, Logan climbed into his bed. The satin lining needed to be changed, soon. It was wearing thin near the bottom. The pillow was still as soft as ever, and when Logan laid his head back, he felt himself sink into the softness. Reaching up a tired arm, he started to pull the lid closed, but just before it _clicked_ shut, he paused.

                He heard Virgil’s voice, as clear as ever through the door, saying, “I just… he saved my life. That’s a really big deal.” There was a beat of silence. “I should’ve said thanks.”

                Patton’s voice was soft as he said, “Oh, he knows you’re thankful… Logan is a good man.”

                Virgil snorted, and Logan smiled at the sound. “He didn’t seem that happy about my being here.”

                “That’s… that’s just Logan,” Patton said with a gentle laugh. “He’s cold on the outside. But he’d do anything to help someone in need. He’s a real hero.”

                Logan wasn’t sure what to think of that. It was true… he’d saved Virgil. He’d spared Roman from a ritual that would banish his ethereal existence. And he’d even saved Patton’s life. Even so, he didn’t think of himself as a hero. He was just like any other vampire; he was cold, tired, and angry at the world. Shifting against the soft lining of his coffin, Logan closed his eyes and let his coffin lid fall shut.

                Immediately, the voices in the living room where silenced. The world around him was peacefully muffled. Logan let out a long, tired exhale and folded his hands over his chest. Sleep greeted him like an old friend, taking him not by surprise, but wrapping him in a cold, heavy thought that left him chilled in the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Ready for some mystery and adventure?  
> See you next chapter!


	3. Chapter 2

_Oklahoma – 1881_

                _Crickets chirped in the underbrush as Logan walked across the lawn of a person he used to know very well. The house was silent to the human ear. To him, it was filled with cacophonous sounds. The sound of hands scraping at the wooden panels of a door, the sound of someone softly crying, and the unmistakable sound of tearing flesh… the things that had happened in the basement of that house were heinous at best._

_Logan had his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he walked across the lawn, past the barn with the hidden basement. He ignored the pleas for help. He had something else to do. Something he should have taken care of way back in New York when he had the chance._

_He walked up to the farmhouse, eyeing the old, rusting lantern that was lit for the sake of seeming normal. He knocked on the door twice, adjusting his glasses as the sound of breaking glass filled the still, summer air. The chorus of crickets continued. The sound of chaos grew._

_She answered the door in a floral, flowing nightgown. Her eyes shone emerald in the light of the oil lamp. Her hair fell in curls of flaming auburn over her shoulders and forward, over her breast. Ruby-red lips curled into a smile, and she looked positively devilish with delight._

_In her eagerness to eat, she had spilled blood across her face, arms, and dress. That blood had stained the front of that once-perfect nightgown a red-wine tint. But, to her, it was just a fashionable statement to add to her persona. She giggled at the sight of him, her teeth still coated in blood._

_Logan didn’t smile back._

_She reached up, cupping Logan’s cheeks and holding him tenderly. “It’s been too long, Mr. Stein. Come to take me away?”_

_“I’m afraid not, Ms. Carron,” he said lowly. Logan took his hands out of his pockets, took out his pistol, and pushed the barrel against the Carron’s forehead. She didn’t run. She didn’t even flinch. She simply smiled. Logan cocked the gun. “I’ve come to put an end to this.”_

+++++

                Logan was asleep and dreaming when it happened; the heavy, alarming feeling of something being dropped on top of him without warning. He didn't move. He laid stiffly beneath the warm, heavy object. It was slightly soft against him... firm like muscle but soft like flesh. Logan frowned.

                "Logan," Roman whispered in a sing-song voice. How did he get into Logan's room? He needed to check the locks again.

                “Go away," Logan grumbled, trying to squirm under Roman's dead weight.

                " _Logan_ ," Roman sang again, this time poking a finger at Logan's ribs. "There's someone at the _door_ …"

                "It's Patton's turn to watch the house," Logan groaned, swatting Roman's hands away. "I was on watch last night." Roman continued to prod, and Logan elbowed whatever part of Roman he had access to. "Get off of me. And out of my room!"

                Roman made a half-offended noise, and Logan distantly heard the sound of the doorbell ringing. He waited, counting to ten slowly as he waited for the sound of Patton answering. It never came. The doorbell rang again. Roman snickered.

                "Patton’s at the grocery store. Looks like you have to get it, pocket protector."

                Logan writhed unhappily. "No."

                Roman leaned more of his weight onto Logan, crushing Logan into the satin lining of his coffin. "You have to get the door, Logan. Get the _door_!"

                Logan growled, low and hoarse, before shoving Roman off of himself. Once he heard Roman stumble away, he reached up, grasped the lid of his coffin, and slammed it shut.

                He was not dealing with any other strange humans. It had been a long night. But now that Virgil was gone and the house was pleasantly quiet, Logan was happy to remain asleep. If there was a nosy human at the door, Patton or Roman could deal with them.

                From outside his coffin, Logan heard the muffled, whining sound of Roman's voice. "Logan! I can't answer the door looking like this! I'm a mess. I haven't put on my makeup. I’ll look _pale_ and _deathly_!"

                Rolling his eyes, Logan shifted against the padding in his coffin, tuning out the sound of Roman's voice. It went on for a minute or two, but once it stopped, Logan finally relaxed against the satin lining of his bed. His muscles went slack, his mind started to wander... he folded his hands over his chest, heaving one final, tired sigh before –

                " _Here_ he is!" Roman announced as he swung open Logan's coffin. Immediately, Logan flinched and hissed at the sunlight streaming through the open curtains. He held his hands over his face, shielding his eyes as he curled in on himself. He distinctly heard Roman chuckle. "And they call _me_ a drama queen."

                "You opened the drapes!" Logan cried angrily, still trying to get away from the burning hot light.

                Abruptly, the heat was gone, and Logan could hear someone stepping away from the window. His brow furrowed; it wasn't Roman. Roman was still standing next to his coffin. His scent was rich and noxious. Too much cologne. It wasn't Patton. The steps were too heavy... uneven. These were human footsteps.

                Logan sat up ramrod straight, taking his glasses from the satin pouch lining the coffin lid and placing them on his nose. He was met with a vision of Roman smirking at him -- smarmy bastard -- and Virgil shifting awkwardly against the far wall. Logan blinked spastically. _Virgil_.

                Moving too fast, Logan launched himself out of bed, smoothing his shirt and straightening his tie before he cleared his throat unevenly. "Virgil," he started crisply. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here." He glared in Roman's direction, but the man in question merely snorted derisively.

                "You just wanted to sleep in, Count Blah-cula."

                Virgil wrinkled his nose at the insult, and muttered, "That insult was pretty weak. 4 out of 10."

                Letting out a mournful cry on behalf of his wounded pride, Roman fell against Logan's coffin dramatically. Logan frowned; he'd _just_ refinished the wood. Roman was going to smudge the new shine.

                Ignoring Roman's obvious cry for attention, Logan turned back to Virgil. The poor boy looked lost in the strange room. Logan couldn't blame him; to a human, the room was terribly wrong. In place of a bed, there was a coffin, and the normal human comforts were sorely lacking.

                He allowed Virgil a few seconds to glance at the numerous bookshelves and Logan's plush reading chair by the window. Logan's curious mind itched to ask his opinion. What did he think? What things were missing? Was there something that should be changed?

                Instead of asking those questions, Logan straightened his glasses. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?"

                Virgil's eyes snapped up from the hardwood floor to meet Logan's. "It's... like, 3 in the afternoon."

                Logan winced. He hated being up this late. It was going to ruin his sleep schedule. But, this was Virgil. A genuinely intriguing young man. They had told him to call or come to them if something was strange. If Logan could understand this... human... a little better, a few hours of lost sleep would be a worthy trade.

                “Oh, don’t mind him.” Still leaning on Logan's coffin, Roman sighed. "He’s just upset because his beauty-sleep was interrupted."

                Virgil's eyes went wide and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Oh... I was... I just --" he scratched a nervous hand through his hair. "P-Patton called me and asked me to come by, so I just..."

                "Ignore Roman," Logan said stiffly. Roman made an indignant squawk, but Logan didn't mind it. He gestured to the door. "Patton is at the store at the moment, but I'd be happy to entertain until he returns."

                Roman stomped his foot. "Excuse me? _I'm_ the entertaining one, here!"

                "You should have thought of that before you lead Virgil to my bedroom and opened my coffin," Logan spat as he waved Virgil into the hallway. "After you, I insist."

                Roman said something else, but Logan closed the door on him. He smiled at Roman's responding huff. Out of sight, out of mind. Steering Virgil into the living room -- it doubled as a meeting room for clients -- Logan gestured for him to sit on the sofa. Logan took the seat just opposite him.

                "Can I get you anything?" He tried to be personable. Humans liked to be pampered, right? He offered concessions. "Water? Coffee?"

                Virgil shrugged and shook his head.  He was still stiff. Uncomfortable. Logan eyed him carefully. He almost looked scared. This was understandable; humans were relatively cautious creatures. What calmed humans? Logan narrowed his eyes. Information? Personal development? Physical reassurance? He wasn't about to touch Virgil. That would be uncomfortable for both of them.

                Folding his hands in his lap, Logan sat back in his seat. He had no idea what to say. With his brain on auto-pilot, he parroted Patton's most common phrase: "I'm sorry for your loss."

                Virgil blinked, confused. "My... what?"

                Logan's expression crumbled a bit. "I'm sorry. Patton says it so often, I assumed..." he gestured between the two of them loosely. "It may be an adequate statement for the situation."

                That made Virgil crack a smile. "Well, I haven't lost anyone lately, so I'm not exactly mourning."

                "Noted." Logan nodded thoughtfully. So _that's_ why Patton always said that. Humans mourned death. Death of loved ones, death of friends... Logan never grasped that concept very well. Death was his life. He folded his hands in his lap and gave Virgil a long, considering look. “It’s been… nearly seven hours since you’ve been here. I assume you’ve returned with a good reason.”

                Virgil squirmed – was his leg bothering him? – and shrugged. “Well… Patton told me to come by after my classes, so… here I am.”

                Logan frowned. Of _course_ Patton invited him. Patton was an insatiable people-pleaser. He probably wanted to make Virgil as comfortable as he could with… well, everything. Rocking back a bit in his seat, Logan glanced wistfully toward the kitchen. He was thirsty. He could use a drink. It would be improper to have a drink in front of Virgil, wouldn’t it? Logan’s mind stuttered to a stop as he turned to Virgil with curious eyes. Virgil already _knew_ what he was. Therefore, he shouldn’t mind.

                Putting that logic to the test, Logan sat forward and asked, “Virgil, would you mind if I had a drink while we wait for Patton?”

                “A drink?” Virgil’s nose wrinkled. “It’s a little early in the day to be drinking don’t you think –” he stopped abruptly, his eyes going wide as he looked at Logan. “Oh. Vampire. Right. I forgot… um, yeah. Yeah, sure. Go for it.”

                With Virgil waving him onward, Logan stood and slipped down the hallway to the body-prepping room. There, in a hidden panel behind the wall, was a large vat filled with blood. It was extremely useful. A container of Logan’s own design. When he had a human body on the embalming table, all he had to do was drain them of their blood – a perfectly normal procedure – and have the blood transferred to the holding vat behind the wall. The pouring spout on the vat had been a later addition. He took a mug from the shelf next to the vat – another excellent addition to the hidden panel – and poured himself a warm glass of blood before replacing the panel and joining Virgil in the sitting room once more.

                He took a long, slow sip, licking his lips before he placed the cup down on the coffee table. It was refreshing. Soothing, in a way. Virgil, however, looked anything but soothed.

                Virgil stared at the mug on the table with narrowed, suspicious eyes, as if the blood was going to leap out of the cup and attack him. Logan watched him curiously. Would all humans act like this if they knew vampires existed? Or was Virgil a special case?

                After a few, thoughtful moments of silence, Virgil finally spoke. “What does it taste like?”

                Logan’s eyebrows raised of their own volition, and he blinked a few times before saying, “I beg your pardon?”

                “Blood,” Virgil said, as if it were an obvious answer. He waved at the cup with his hand, his long sleeves flopping across his knuckles until Virgil pushed them back. “Does it… like… taste different to you?”

                Logan glanced down at the cup and then back to Virgil. “I honestly wouldn’t know. I was _born_ a vampire. I’ve always _been_ a vampire. I wouldn’t know how my taste buds are any different from a human’s, given that vampires would not let scientists document their anatomy.”

                Sitting back, Virgil shook his head with a sly smirk. “You are _such_ a nerd.”

                Logan made a face. Nerd? That sounded like a contemporary reference or insult. Either way, it was completely lost on Logan. So, with a shake of his head, Logan crossed his legs and picked up his cup. While Virgil watched him with an interested glint in his dark eyes, Logan took a slow, casual sip.

                 “It’s metallic,” Logan said lowly. Virgil’s eyes snapped up from where they were studiously admiring his cup, and Logan was intrigued to see Virgil’s face pale a little bit. He held up his cup, indicating what he meant. “The blood, I mean. It’s a bit watery, which is expected. Human bodies are essentially water. It’s metallic for the most part, then a hint of bitterness... but mainly smooth and watery.”

                Virgil nodded. “That makes sense… that’s what it tastes like to me, too.”

                Logan quirked an eyebrow. “You… drink blood? That’s extremely unhealthy for a human being.”

                Surprisingly, Virgil laughed. He rocked back in his seat, tugging at his jacket sleeves as he shook his head. “Nah, I don’t _drink_ blood… I mean, not the way you do. But when I get a paper cut or something, I lick the blood away. Just so it doesn’t drip or anything.”

                “Ah. Good,” Logan nodded, taking another slow drink. “Because you do not extract the iron from blood the way I do, it would be dangerous for you to drink blood… I expect that it would even kill you.”

                Tapping his thighs awkwardly, Virgil nodded. “Neat,” he muttered as he avoided Logan’s gaze.

                For a few minutes, they sat in peaceable silence. Logan tapped the edge of his ceramic cup, eyeing Virgil’s torn black pants and purple-tinted hair. Did young people have no pride in their appearance in this day and age? Or was it simply the new norm? Things had changed so drastically since the 1760’s.

                It wasn’t like Virgil was unattractive in his current attire. It was the exact opposite. He had a strange, dark appeal. Like an outsider with a purpose. With dark, brown hair that bled into deep, purple highlights and a hoodie that was extremely impractical in the summer heat… he was an anomaly in the current fashion statements of society. It was fascinating. Logan like fascinating things.

                “So,” Logan set his empty cup on the table, running his tongue over his teeth to make sure they weren’t painted red when he spoke. “Why did Patton call you this afternoon?”

                Looking away from the curtains he was previously admiring, Virgil shrugged. “I dunno. All I know is he called me between my classes and said I should come here after I finished all my classes for the day.”

                Logan frowned. Patton hadn’t even mentioned anything to him. That irritated him… why was Patton inviting humans into the house without laying out a good reason for doing so? Drumming his fingers against his thigh, Logan pursed his lips.

                “That sounds… odd.”

                “Tell me about it,” Virgil huffed as he sat back against the sofa cushions. “Walking here from the bus stop sucked. My leg still hurts like a bitch.”

                Logan narrowed his eyes. “Your leg? Oh yes. The stitches.” Logan nodded to himself and adjusted his glasses. “I sometimes forget that humans take an unfathomable amount of time to heal themselves. Your tissue regeneration is regrettably slow.”

                While Virgil snickered to himself at that, the front door creaked open. Logan hardly glanced over to see Roman fly down the hall in hot pursuit of Patton, meeting him at the door with a devastated, melodramatic sigh.

                “Oh, Patton! My darling, my _angel_! You were gone for decades. No, centuries. No, eons!” Logan rolled his eyes as Patton giggled. There was a sound of some sort of physical exchange. A kiss, no doubt. Logan turned his mug in circles as Virgil awkwardly turned to admire the curtains again. When Roman spoke again, it was still with the same dramatic flair. “Did you miss me, beloved?”

                “I always do, sugar-cookie!” Patton laughed. The crinkling of plastic bags filled the hallway; Patton had set down his shopping. “You could’ve come with me, Roman. I know you like going to the store.”

                When Patton stepped into the living room with Roman – fully corporeal and smiling dreamily – on his heels, Logan turned to look at him. Patton still had a smile on his face, but it was tight. Uneasy. Logan narrowed his eyes. Patton knew something. Something very… unsatisfying. Glancing down at the newspaper tucked under Patton’s left arm, Logan pursed his lips and caught Patton’s uneasy gaze.

                “You’re back,” he said.

                Patton glanced between Logan and Virgil, his smile wavering. “I sure am!” He finally said when Virgil looked at him with a hint of a smile. He handed Logan the newspaper and sat in the armchair next to the coffee table, effectively setting himself between Logan and Virgil. Patton didn’t look at Logan at all after he sat down. He simply smiled at Virgil. “You got here sooner than I thought you would, Virgil.”

                Virgil blinked. “Uh… yeah, I guess so. I mean, my lit class was cut short, so…”

                Logan frowned. Small-talk. He hated it. He opened up the newspaper, giving the front page a quick glance. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the heading: _Young Woman Missing: Serial Kidnappings?_ Logan was intrigued. Not interested enough to do anything, but just curious enough to keep reading. Going through the article, Logan’s brow furrowed. Patton had circled the last paragraph. It was a short, three-line blurb.

                _Amanda Cole was last seen walking down St. Peter Street at 11 pm. She was heading south, toward her home. No one has seen her since._

After that, there was a phone number to call if she was seen, along with a picture of a young woman’s face. She was blonde. She had green eyes. She had a glittering smile. And… she was last seen walking down their street two days ago. He folded the paper and set it on the table.

                Virgil and Patton were talking about school. Patton was fascinated by the classes. It was understandable… Patton was a man of very little education. He’d never attended school. Not even when he was human. Logan admired his curiosity… but he knew there was more to his questions.

                He was asking Virgil about his friends. How were they? Did Virgil and his friends keep up on current events? Did he know the girl that went missing? Logan watched the conversation carefully, keeping track of Virgil’s noncommittal answers. “They were fine,” and, “Not really,” and lastly, “No?”

                Terse, unhelpful answers. After a few minutes of questioning, Patton sat back and gave Logan a tired look. Logan quirked an eyebrow.

                “You seem to think this girl disappearing has something to do with Virgil,” he said thoughtfully.

                In his seat, Virgil twitched and gave Patton a hurt look. Patton, however, quickly sat up straight and shook his head. “No! No, that’s not… that’s not what I think. I think…” he glanced at Virgil, then back to Logan. “I think it’s strange that she just happened to be walking down _our_ street when she was… taken.”

                Logan rolled his eyes. “And how do you know she was taken, Patton? Could she be with a lover? Isn’t that what young humans revel in? Debauchery and alcohol?”

                “Way to assume,” Virgil grumbled. Logan ignored that.

                “What I’m saying is,” Logan straightened his glasses and gave Patton an irritated look. “You really have no reason to be suspicious about this disappearance. Furthermore, it was unnecessary to invite Virgil to our home. He clearly had no connection to this girl.”

                While Virgil scowled at Logan, Patton sat forward and indicated to the paper. “That’s just the thing, Logan… this girl… Amanda, right? She _never_ took this street home. Isn’t that strange? Why would she walk an unfamiliar route so late at night?”

                Logan rubbed his temples; it was too early for this. “Perhaps she was inebriated, Patton.”

                “The report says she left a friends’ party at 11,” Patton said firmly, pointing at the paper with fervor. “And it says she hadn’t been drinking any alcohol that night.”

                “Maybe she drank something that was spiked,” Virgil piped up. Roman and Logan turned to look at him, and Virgil shrugged. “It happens. I’m not saying it’s like… a normal thing, but… maybe.”

                Patton crossed his arms and sat back. “It’s just… it’s strange that this girl goes missing and then…” he pursed his lips. “And then a strange ghoul shows up in our territory.”

                Roman lingered in the doorway, leaning against the wall with a pout. “And how interesting is it that Virgil just _happens_ to come into the cemetery on the same night the ghoul is sniffing about.”

                Logan’s head snapped up, watching Virgil’s alarmed reaction. Ah… that was interesting. Virgil’s heartrate was elevated. He was afraid. Panicking that he was about to be caught? Or just anxious that he was being blamed for something? Logan was itching to know the truth.

                Drumming his fingers against his thigh, Logan gave Virgil a long, considering look. “It’s also very interesting that you weren’t surprised to know our true identities.”

                Virgil gave Logan a horrified look. “Are… are you fucking kidding me? This… this is bullshit. You can’t be blaming me for this girl going missing.”

                “I’m not,” Logan said lowly. “I’m inferring that you were the one to change her into a ghoul.”

                Patton shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Now, now… let’s not be too hasty.”

                Giving Patton a sidelong glance, Logan continued to drum his fingers. “You were the one that brought Virgil here, Patton. You were the one to suggest he may be involved.”

                Virgil looked to Patton. “ _Seriously_?”

                “No!” Patton raised his hands in surrender before he frowned at Logan. “That’s not what I’m saying, Logan. You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

                “Then _spit it out_ , Patton,” Logan snapped, stomping a foot on the floor. “ _Why_ is he _here?_ ”

                Roman appeared behind Patton’s chair with fire in his eyes. “Don’t you _dare_ speak to him that way, you vile cretin!”

                “Stop shouting!” Patton squeaked, shrinking beneath Logan’s sharp look.

                Logan ignored him. “Well then, settle this. Why did you bring Virgil here? Because you wanted to finish what the other ghoul started last night?”

                Patton flinched away from that, and Roman’s face contorted in agony. “Shut your mouth, demon! I won’t let you speak him like that!”

                Logan raised his eyebrows and gave Roman an unimpressed stare. “Do keep in mind that this is _my_ house, Roman. I can exercise you in a heartbeat.”

                “Woah!” Virgil threw his arms out in front of him, signaling everyone to stop. “Let’s all just _calm down_.”

                Roman snorted. “Oh, _wonderful_. Now the human is going to lecture us?”

                “Virgil is just trying to help,” Patton insisted, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he looked around the room. “And he’s got a point. There’s no use fighting between ourselves.”

                Logan felt his skin crawl; he hated being told what to do. He was the smart one. He always knew best. Over two hundred years of living gave him extensive knowledge of the world around him. However… Patton was – regrettably – right.

                “It’s true,” Logan sighed. “Infighting will get us nowhere. However,” he gave Virgil a sharp look and the boy visibly recoiled, sitting on the sofa with a wince. “Virgil is still suspect.”

                “Seriously? I had no idea ghouls even _existed_ before I talked to you guys,” Virgil sighed.

                “A likely story,” Logan said irritably. He stood up and began to pace the room with is hands clasped behind his back. “But the circumstances align so easily, you must understand our trepidation and unwillingness trust you.”

                Virgil gave him a tired look. “Sure? I just… I have no idea how I’m supposed to prove it wasn’t me.” He shrugged uselessly. “You want an alibi? I was in my dorm two nights ago… working on my computer graphics project.”

                Patton continued to fidget. “It’s just strange… Amanda wasn’t the only person to go missing. The Governor’s daughter is also missing. Reports suggest she ran off with her girlfriend, but…” Patton looked at the carpeted floor anxiously. “Now… with Amanda missing, I’m starting to think…”

                Roman’s body seemed to flicker. He wasn’t focusing on corporeality. He looked upset. He looked a little translucent as he knelt next to Patton. “Now, don’t look so blue, darling! I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

                “These are hell of a lot of coincidences,” Virgil muttered. Roman glared at him, but Virgil ignored him.

                “I agree,” Logan said lowly. “I read the article on the Governor’s daughter disappearing last night. She has been declared missing for nearly five days, now.” Logan paced the room, his legs tired and brain wired on fresh blood. “First the Governor’s daughter… then Amanda Cole two nights ago… and then Virgil stumbles into the cemetery with a ghoul in hot pursuit.” He stopped mid-pace to give Virgil a look. The boy was avoiding his gaze, his hands braced on his knees with a white-knuckle grip. Logan narrowed his eyes and mumbled, “Very interesting.”

                When Roman leaned against Patton’s thigh, he was fully corporeal and grimacing. “Very _suspicious_ , you mean? How is Virgil tied to all of this? Where is the Governor’s daughter?”

                Virgil blinked and finally lifted his gaze from the carpet, looking at Roman with wide eyes. “Was… was she the ghoul? Or was Amanda Cole the ghoul?” He turned to Logan and asked, “Where’s the body? Is there any way we can figure out who it was?”

                Logan pursed his lips and looked at Patton. The poor man looked like he was about to be sick. He held hand to his stomach and swallowed thickly. Logan looked away as Patton’s face drained of color.

                “The body has been… disposed of, unfortunately. But, if we knew who _made_ the ghoul,” he stared pointedly at Virgil, and the human didn’t shy away from his gaze. “Then we could simply ask them which girl it was.”

                Virgil’s voice was low and angry when he said, “I didn’t turn anyone into a ghoul. I didn’t even know ghouls were a _thing_ until I met you guys.”

                “Maybe… maybe Virgil isn’t the person responsible. Maybe –” Patton squirmed as Roman’s hand slid up along his inner thigh, and Patton caught his wrist, returning the wandering hand to safer territory. “Maybe he really _was_ here by chance.” He gave Virgil a cautious smile. “I didn’t mean to make us all out to be ornery, I just… I just wanted to see if there was any connection between you and the girls.”

                Shifting in his seat, Virgil shook his head. “There isn’t. I mean, we all go to the same college, but… I didn’t _know_ those girls.” He glanced at Logan, and then back to Patton. “I think I’m gonna head home. As much as I _love_ being here, I don’t really want to be persecuted.”

                “Why not, _Virgil_?” Roman asked in a sing-song voice. “Do you have something to hide?”

                Virgil turned to Roman with a steely glint in his eye. “Okay, Lover-Boy. I get it. You don’t like me. But I’m not gonna sit here and have fingers pointed at me. I got enough of that from my dad when I was younger.”

                Roman didn’t look offended. In fact, he looked a pleased with this biting statement. “Lover-Boy? I like that name.” He leaned himself into Patton’s lap and smiled, “Call me Lover-Boy in your Southern drawl, dearest.”

                Patton giggled at that, and Logan rolled his eyes. Leave it to Roman to be distracted by childish name-calling. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his trousers, Logan eyes Virgil as he shakily stood up from the sofa and made his shambling way toward the entryway.

                Patton followed him – and Roman followed him, respectively – and Logan listened as Patton fervently apologized. “I’m sorry, Virgil… I just… I just hoped you’d be able to clear up some questions. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like… like this.”

                Logan heard Virgil sigh as the front door opened. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to being blamed for stuff. Next time… you can just ask me your questions over the phone, yeah?”

                There was an uncomfortable pause, and then Patton spoke with a tired, downtrodden voice. “Sure thing, kiddo. But… let’s hope there isn’t a next time.”

                Not waiting to hear Virgil leave, Logan sauntered back upstairs, to his bedroom, and closed the door. There, he could comfortably. Mull over the information he was given. The attacks/kidnappings… the ghoul… and… Virgil. How did it all fit? It seemed like a messy web of misconnections.  Logan glowered as he climbed back into his coffin and shut the lid.

                It was a spider’s web of broken details. He had to unravel it and get to the source. As he relaxed into the satin lining to his coffin, Logan sighed. He had no idea where to start unwinding the web… and no clue how far the web extended.

                And… where was the spider that spun the mess in the first place?

+++++

_Oklahoma – 1881_

                _Logan stood over the double doors that lead to the basement until a barn. Crying could he heard through the thick, steel doors. The chains that held something still in the dark rattled ominously. Desperate screams fell on unsympathetic ears._

_Logan looked down at the gun in his hand; still spattered with the thick, black residue of Emily Carron’s blood. He could feel that same blood dripping from the frame of his glasses as he blinked slowly at the firearm. Dark, ashen blood… the blood of a nether creature. Shooting her in the face had been messier than he anticipated._

_When the screams cut into his thoughts, Logan tucked the gun into the waistband of his trousers and reached for the chains. It took more effort than he expected, but pulled at them nonetheless. Whatever Emily had hidden in this basement needed to be dealt with before humans came looking for answers._

_After a few strained pulls, the chains broke beneath his strength, and Logan dropped them to the side. With little effort, he opened the steel doors, looking down into the pitch blackness of a forgotten void. Two eyes stared up at him, desperate and glittering with tears… and surprisingly coherent. Logan’s brow furrowed. This… creature… it looked too human. Too afraid. Had Emily chained a human in this basement just to watch it starve to death?_

_Glancing around the basement, Logan was interested to see the bodies of several animals torn to shreds. The human had blood streaked across his bare chest and chin. Logan quirked an eyebrow. Had he eaten them raw? The chains around his wrists and ankles kept him from reaching the door… just inches from freedom but not strong enough to escape._

_“What… are you?” Logan asked lowly. He didn’t even know if the thing would even understand him. The creature – human? Or ghoul? – panted a few times, still gasping for breath after his last desperate scream for freedom._

_“I… I don’t…” Logan’s eyebrows raised. So, it_ could _speak. Fascinating. The creature looked at him through sweaty, matted hair and squinting eyes. “I don’t know anymore.”_

_Logan’s curiosity festered. A non-human thing. A nether creature with one foot in the grave and one foot out of it. It spoke. Coherently so. Logan crossed his arms over his chest. Emily had kept this thing for a reason… but why? Who was it? He lifted his chin and asked, “Do you have a name?”_

_The creature blinked, eyes still squinting and face scrunched up in confusion. Logan admired the expression. Did he need glasses? Before he could ask, the thing spoke. “Patton,” he breathed shakily. “I’m… Patton Jensen.”_

_Logan nodded and descended the stairs into the basement. There, he pulled the shackles around Patton’s wrists apart. A pair of glasses sat – unreachable by Patton – on a table against the wall. He retrieved them, handing them to Patton with a nod. “Not anymore.”_

_Patton pushed his glasses onto his face, staring up at Logan with tired eyes. “Not… not anymore?” He echoed curiously._

_Logan nodded, removing his coat and draping it over Patton’s bare shoulders. “You are now my assistant: Patton Jenkins.”_

+++++

                Logan woke to knocking on the lid of his coffin. It was a polite, trio of knocks… soft and tentative. Patton, no doubt. Pulling the latch on the inside of his coffin, Logan sat up to see Patton standing next to him with shaking hands. Logan yawned and stretched his arms above his head before finally adjusting his glasses and giving Patton a personable look.

                “What is it? Did I oversleep?”

                “No… well, yes, but I thought you deserved to sleep in. It’s just past eleven o’clock at night. But…” Patton said with a shake of his head. He bit his lower lip, glancing down at the cordless phone in his hand. “Virgil called.”

                Logan quirked his eyebrow. “Oh?”

                When Patton finally looked at him, it was with a fearful glint in his eye. “He sounded so scared, Logan…”

                Climbing out of his coffin, Logan smoothed his tie and took the phone from Patton’s hand. “Enough stalling, Patton. What did he say?”

                “He… he said that he saw a ghoul outside his dorm window,” Patton finally sputtered, eyes darting around the room anxiously. “His voice was shaking… he didn’t know what to do, so he… he called me. He said… he watched a ghoul drag some other student into the trees.”

                Logan grimaced. “Serial kidnappings, eh? We’ll see about that…” he grabbed his jacket from the hanger by the door and threw it over his shoulders. “Get your keys, Patton. We’re paying Virgil’s dorm a little visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, let's dip into the past, shall we? An old man like Logan is bound to reminisce.  
> See you next chapter!


	4. Chapter 3

                Patton held the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip as they sped through the streets. Logan had to brace his hand against the car door as Patton drove erratically, trying to avoid patches of moonlight as he went. When they swerved wildly to duck into the shade of a nearby tree, Roman rolled across the back seat with a peel of giggles. Logan huffed unhappily.

                “Patton, you’re wearing gloves _and_ a long-sleeve shirt,” he grumbled to the driver. Patton stared out the windshield with wide-eyes nonetheless, and Logan sighed. “The moonlight won’t touch you. We should focus on arriving at Virgil’s dorm.”

                “We’ll get there,” Patton said through clenched teeth.

                Roman sat up in the back seat with a grin. “I don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud, Logan.” He smiled brightly as Patton took a sharp turn and sent Roman flying across the seats and into the car door. He laughed at Patton’s squeak of alarm, happily announcing, “I’m having a wonderful time!”

                Logan cast a dark glare back at Roman, but the wraith wasn’t paying attention. He was dreamily smiling at the back of Patton’s head. It was ridiculous; Patton could cause a car accident, and Roman would still worship the ground he walked on. Why? Because of unconditional love? Logan had never experienced anything remotely like it. Nor did he want to. It seemed to erase all rational thought.

                The car pulled up to the dormitory with a resounding _screech_ , and Logan made a mental note to renew his own driver’s license. Patton was a terrible driver at night. After climbing out of the car, Logan cast a careful glance at the woods that lined the south perimeter of the dorms. They were full of sound; small animals rustling through the underbrush, the echoes of voices in the dorm, branches swaying the night-time breeze… but nothing that specifically screamed ‘ghoul.’

                “Hey!” A voice called from above them. Logan’s head snapped up to see Virgil’s head sticking out of a third story window. He looked just as pale and anxious as always when he pointed at the front doors of the dorm. “Hang on, I’ll let you guys inside.”

                Virgil disappeared from view, and Logan once again set his sights on the trees. The sky was blanketed with clouds, and each of them was heavy with rain. It cast the trees in an ominous, foreboding shadow. And though there were still patches of moonlight that slipped through those clouds, Patton was eager to get away from it.

                “I’ll… I’ll wait over here!” Patton said quickly as he ducked under the awning by the front door of the dorm. Logan nodded absently, taking a deep breath through his nose. Blood rang metallic and fresh in the air. Logan wrinkled his nose and clenched his jaw; wherever the student was, he’d lost a serious amount of blood. Roman watched him, his brows knitting together in thought.

                “I don’t feel anything in the air…” he said lowly, his eyes narrowing at the trees. He crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side as Logan gave him a considering look. “It’s odd… it took us at least five minutes to get here. Shouldn’t the ghoul have killed the student by now?”

                Logan hummed thoughtfully. “A ghoul would have been able to kill _ten_ students by now.” The two men were quiet for a minute, watching the trees for any movement. There was nothing that could be seen. Logan cursed his damaged vision. He blinked and turned to Roman. “I think I’ll have you come with me.”

                Roman’s eyes went wide at that. “And leave my darling angel all alone?” He held his hand to his breast and sent Patton a longing look. “Perish the thought, Logan.”

                “Virgil will be with him,” Logan said sternly as the front door of the dorms opened. He watched as Patton slipped inside, motioning for Virgil to close the door before any moonlight had a chance to touch him. Logan nodded at the interaction. “See? He’ll be fine. Furthermore, Patton will be able to ensure Virgil’s location while we hunt down the ghoul.”

                Starting off toward the trees, Logan tried to keep his footsteps as light as possible. The illusion of sneaking was destroyed when Roman sighed, “Oh, leaving my love with that… _child_ … that man-hunter… that heart-stealer… that –”

                “Shush,” Logan hissed, waving away Roman’s fragile ego.

                Roman huffed, but remained quiet as they slunk through the grass behind the dormitory. The smell of blood was stronger there, and in a shining beam of moonlight, a spatter of blood on the grass was highlighted. It glittered in the light, just for a moment, only to slip back into secrecy when clouds sheltered the moon once more.

                Logan took another deep breath through is nose. “It’s a little stale, here…” he made a face as a smell assaulted his nose. “Do I smell cigarette ash?”

                Roman hummed, sauntering through the grass and toward the dorms. “The blood marks a nice trail to the back door… and what do we have here?” He nudged a faintly-glowing cigarette butt. “Perhaps the little student was out for a nightly smoke and simply happened upon a ghoul?”

                Logan pursed his lips and followed the slightly glistening trail of blood toward the trees. It appeared that Virgil had been telling the truth when he said the student had been dragged away. But how convenient was it that Virgil just _happened_ to see it all occurring?

                Waving Roman forward, he indicated to the trees ahead of them. Roman would be able to feel the presence of another deceased spirit in the trees before Logan… hopefully, if the student _was_ indeed dead, that would give them an edge on the ghoul. With a slight nod, Roman faded from view, reappearing between the trees with a hazy, flickering outline.

                Logan followed him through the trees, crouching next to the trunks of trees while Roman carefully looked through the dark underbrush.

                Roman’s voice rang oddly in the trees when he spoke. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

                Logan quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

                “All these ghouls,” Roman said softly as he walked through a tree, incorporeal and serene while he searched. “I thought the creation of ghouls was taboo in vampiric culture.”

                “It is,” Logan said angrily as squinted at a tree trunk. There was blood smeared across the bark. Logan frowned. “Though the mass production of ghouls isn’t unheard of. There have been a few attempts at such a thing in the past… but none were successful.”

                “Mass production?” Roman asked in confusion, glancing back at Logan with wide eyes. “That would be chaos.”

                “That's normally the plan,” Logan said tiredly. “Chaos.”

                Roman didn’t respond to that, opting to sigh heavily and point a little further into the trees. Logan followed his gesture, and they walked to the base of an oak tree. With blood dripping down his face and their mouth hanging open in terror, the dead student – or, most of them – was hanging from the lower branches. Logan couldn’t see the legs, but to be fairly honest, he didn’t expect that the ghoul left them behind in the trees.

                The blood was still fresh. Even the smaller scratches from being dragged through the dirt and branches hadn’t had the chance to clot, yet. Logan narrowed his eyes. Tearing the body apart had been done recently… if not moments before they arrived. This only served to irritate Logan.

                “Well, we found the student,” said Roman with a tired blink.

                “But that only begs the question,” Logan said as he looked around the small forest. “Where is the ghoul that killed him?”

+++++

                Virgil leaned against the wall heavily as Patton paced the entryway. He was fidgeting, pulling at the white gardening gloves that covered his hands. Vigil watched him, eyes narrowed as Patton carefully walked around the patches of moonlight that streamed through the windows.

                “Hey, uh,” Virgil started softly, smiling when Patton startled at the sudden sound of his voice. “Sorry. I’ve got a question.”

                Patton smiled, but Virgil had a feeling it wasn’t quite genuine. “Ask away, kiddo.”

                Virgil pointed to the light that came through the windows. “What’s up with… all of that?”

                Glancing down at the floor, Patton sighed. “I can’t let moonlight touch my skin.”

                Virgil squinted. “Like… ever?”

                “Never,” Patton said with a frown. “I normally don’t go out on nights with a moon, but… you called, so…” Patton trailed off uncomfortably, pulling at his gloves and glancing at the door.

                Virgil felt guilt settle in his stomach. “Sorry, I was just… I was really freaked out. I was studying for a test and I heard this weird noise,” he said softly, shifting his weight to his right foot when the stitches in his left began to pull and sting. He could still remember glancing out the window and seeing the graying skin and dark eyes of the creature in the trees… he could still see the way it dragged another nameless student into the trees. He swallowed thickly. “I saw that and I knew… I knew you guys were the only people I could tell.” He looked to Patton seeing a glimmer of anxiety in the older man’s eyes. Virgil smiled. “If I told the police, I can only imagine they’d be killed, too.”

                “Probably,” Patton nodded with a tired smile. He looked at the front door again, wringing his hands. “I hope those two are okay…”

                Virgil quirked an eyebrow. “Isn’t Roman a ghost? Why worry about him?”

                “Wraiths are different,” Patton said absently as he stepped around another column of light. He approached Virgil, carefully making sure he was in a safe place before leaning back against the wall. “Wraiths are… they’re not like your typical poltergeist. They can be tangible. They can touch things… and be touched. They can feel pain, and a bit of pleasure.” Virgil squirmed at that last detail, but Patton didn’t mind it. He simply stared at the floor and murmured, “But they can’t eat food. Their bodies won't process it. They can’t sleep, either. So… Roman is _always_ hungry. _Always_ tired. But he can’t sleep or eat.”

                Virgil let out a low whistle. “That’s… rough.” Patton hummed thoughtfully, and Virgil glanced at him. “And you can’t go out at night when there’s a moon. You guys are tough.”

                “Tough?” Patton laughed a little, regaining that childish sense of warmth that he normally had. Virgil smiled at that, watching the way Patton adjusted his glasses. “I don’t know about that. But I know that having Roman makes life a lot easier.” He looked a little misty when he said, “Without him, I probably wouldn’t be here, today.”

                Virgil blinked hard, breathing a soft, “Seriously?”

                “I’m a ghoul,” Patton said with a smile. “Halfway between alive and dead. If moonlight touches me, I become… I’m…” he looked away, carefully watching the way the light came through the windows. “I don’t like the feeling it brings. I can’t control anything. It’s like being trapped in my own body. Just… carnal and hungry and…” Patton closed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s not good.”

                Virgil squirmed again. “Yeah, that’s… pretty messed up.”

                Patton nodded. “But… Roman still loves me, despite what I am. He’s seen me… like that… and he still thinks I’m a good person.”

                “Well, you _are_ ,” Virgil said bluntly. Patton looked at him with wide eyes, and Virgil smiled a bit. “Just this afternoon, Logan said that ghouls forget who they are when they…” he waved his hands vaguely. How was he supposed to explain the change between monster and man? Apparently, the wiggling hand was enough, and Patton smiled at the attempt. Virgil tucked his hands back into his pockets and shuffled his foot. “I just met you guys, and honestly? You’re the nicest one of your little group.”

                Patton giggled at that. “Aw, shucks. You think so?” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m just the boy my mama raised me to be.”

                Virgil squinted. Was that a southern accent he just heard? He stopped shuffling his foot and scooted along the wall so Patton could move and avoid the moonlight. “Hey, Pat… where are you from?”

                “Me? Oklahoma. Born and raised on my family farm!” Patton said brightly.

                Virgil nodded thoughtfully. “Cool… why did you come up to Washington?”

                Patton hesitated. “Why… did I? Oh, that’s…” Patton chuckled uneasily. “Boy oh boy, that’s a long story, ain’t it?” Virgil had a feeling that if Patton had a piece of wheat, he’d be chewing on it thoughtfully. He followed Patton’s gaze out the window, looking toward the woods. Patton’s voice was soft as he said, “I came here with Logan.”

                Virgil gave Patton a sidelong glance. “I thought you were with Roman.”

                “I… I am,” Patton said sheepishly with a laugh. His cheeks flushed, and Virgil smiled at that. “I meant that… Logan brought me to Washington to work with him. We didn’t come straight here, though… we went a lot of different places. We were in Chicago, Illinois for a while in the 1910’s… then we dipped down to Ethel, Mississippi in 1930. Then we went back up north to Duluth, Minnesota in 1950.”

                “That’s… a lot of state-hopping,” Virgil breathed. “And you’ve been working with Logan _that_ long?”

                Patton shrugged. “He saved my life.”

                “Still,” Virgil grumbled, “He doesn’t treat you very well.”

                Again, Patton shrugged, but this time there was a fond smile on his face. “That’s just his way. Believe it or not, he’s a lot nicer than he used to be.”

                Virgil gave Patton a disbelieving look. “No way.”

                “Way!” Patton grinned. “For first few years I worked with Logan, he would lock me in the basement at night just to make sure I didn’t go outside and change into a true ghoul.” Virgil blinked. He held Patton captive? He shuddered a little at that, and Patton even looked a little perturbed as he recalled the memory. “That was… that was back in the 1880’s. We were somewhere in Virginia, I think. A small down by the sea. I could hear the waves through the walls of the basement…”

                Virgil quickly tried to divert the topic of the conversation. “So… how many states did you guys live in?”

                Patton blinked himself out of his thoughts, smiling as he mentally tallied their different homes. “Oh, I think there are very few states we haven’t live in. Maybe… three we haven’t hit yet… or thereabouts.”

                Virgil opened his mouth to ask more, but he saw something move along the tree line. He tensed, his eyes wide and scanning the dark trees for _something_. Was it the ghoul? Had Logan and Roman found it? Was it dead? Next to him, Patton stiffened. He’d seen it, too.

They watched with baited breath as the trees rustled in the wind. The untrimmed grass of the lawn dipped and swayed… Virgil felt his eyes ache from not blinking, but he didn’t dare close his eyes. He wanted to be able to see the ghoul coming when it sprung out of the trees. He wanted to be able to duck out of the way and hide when it came racing toward the thin-glass window.

When something broke through the darkness, Virgil pressed himself against the wall. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. The thing – no. A man. Virgil blinked and watched as the figure stepped into the light. Virgil let out a breath of relief. It was Logan. He walked with his head held high as Roman trudged along beside him. They were speaking to each other, Virgil could see. It was a short, irritated exchange. Virgil frowned at that as he went to open up the dormitory doors for them.

“Hey,” he called to them as they approached. He caught Logan’s eye and held his gaze. Before, those dark blue eyes hadn’t scared him. Logan had seemed oddly relaxed for a vampire. But now… now, Logan was the man that locked poor, hapless Patton in the basement. He was the man that hunted ghouls in his spare time and somehow managed to enslave/ensnare one at the same time. Now, Virgil watched Logan with a half-trusting look as he asked, “Did you guys find it?”

“No,” Logan growled unhappily in response as he shouldered his way into the lobby.

“Patton, my angel!” Roman crooned as he slipped through the walls and into Patton’s waiting arms. They held each other tight, and for the first time, Virgil didn’t find it off-putting. They really loved each other. He watched with an amused smile as Roman pulled back and kissed Patton soundly.

                Logan, however, ignored the entire exchange. He paced the entryway, tapping his chin irritably while Roman sheltered Patton from the moonlight. Virgil watched Logan, admiring the straight line of his shoulders and the crisp, clipped mark of each step. He was an… interesting person.

                With thick-framed glasses and a three-piece suit to match, he was the very vision of a proper business man. Dark brown hair and cutting blue eyes… he was attractive. Were all vampires like that, or just him? Virgil’s curiosity itched, but he didn’t dare ask. He simply watched the way Logan paced, all long legs and broad shoulders. God, if he were a normal human being, Virgil would date him _so_ hard.

But he _wasn’t_ a human. Logan was something else. Someone that made his business in the death of humankind. A person that locked up his ‘friends’ in the basement. A man that threatened to exorcise his other 'friends' if they oppose him. Virgil narrowed his eyes. All of these details highlighted Logan had nothing less than a true fantasy novel villain. Virgil blinked tiredly. It was too late to debate the pros and cons of Logan’s character… it was the middle of the damn night.

Stepping forward slowly, Virgil shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Did you find the guy that the ghoul took?”

Logan didn’t even pause to look at Virgil as he grunted, “Yes.”

Virgil blinked, fidgeting restlessly with the lint in his pocket. “Was… was he –”

“He was dead. Torn limb from limb and disemboweled,” Logan said tersely.

Virgil felt his stomach flop in alarm. He was dead? Dead. Another student was dead. Another ‘missing’ person. Just like the governor’s daughter. Just like Amanda Cole. Virgil felt sick. He’d _seen_ it happen. He’d watched the ghoul drag away one of his fellow students. And now... they were dead. Virgil stumbled back, feeling blindly for a wall as his stomach clenched nauseatingly.

“Oh my god…” Virgil gasped for breath as he leaned forward a bit. His head spun. He’d witnessed it. The death of another student. Had he been dead already when he was dragged into the woods? Or had there still been a chance to save him? Could Virgil have done something more? His head spun as he groaned, “Oh my _god_ …”

“What?” Logan snapped. “Why is _this_ disappearance so important to you?” He crowded Virgil against the wall, looming over him with burning eyes and clenched teeth. “You saw it happen. You, and no one else. How? _How did you know it was happening?_ ”

Virgil pressed back against the wall, glaring up at Logan. “I’m freaking out because _he’s dead!_ And… I just… I heard something outside my window. I didn’t _know_ that a ghoul was gonna be there.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “And your roommate? Where were they?”

Virgil shrugged and spread his hands in surrender. “Dude, he’s at a concert downtown! I was all by myself!” Logan didn’t seem to buy that, but it was all Virgil had to offer. “I was by myself. I heard a sound and looked out the window. It was just by chance. And now…” Virgil blinked a few times, fighting to wrap his head around the situation. “Now he’s… dead.”

“How convenient,” Logan hissed, his sharp canine teeth leering dangerously close as Virgil leaned away from him.

“Logan,” Patton said anxiously. “I really don’t think he could have done this… besides, you don’t have any solid proof that says he did.”

Logan stepped back to give Patton a sharp look. “There is also no evidence indicating his innocence, is there?”

Roman huffed. “All right, I know you want to find the big-bad-ghoul maker, but I _must_ agree with my beloved… Virgil couldn’t have done this.”

Virgil blinked. That was surprising. Roman was on his side? Maybe he was just doing it to back up Patton. He watched as Logan turned his anger-fueled gaze on Roman.

“Give me _one_ good reason why _not_ ,” Logan snapped lowly. Roman merely raised an eyebrow at that.

                “His leg?” Roman said dryly. “He couldn’t have possibly dragged a full-grown man into the woods with his leg like that. He’d need assistance, at the very least.” He checked his fingernails tiredly as he said, “And do you _honestly_ think that _Virgil_ could rip another human being to pieces like that?”

                Virgil’s stomach heaved again, and he swallowed down a mouthful of bile as Logan growled and turned away. Well, Logan had been proved wrong… but that did nothing to solve the issue. The ghoul was still running amuck. How many more students would go missing? How many more people would be killed? Virgil let out a long exhale, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes. This was insane.

                Three days ago, he’d never really believed in the scary stories he heard when he was little. He wasn’t actively afraid of things that went bump in the night. He was an adult. He was supposed to act like one. Now… vampires and ghosts and ghouls roamed his hometown. He was now in constant danger. His anxiety was through the roof… and Logan was _still_ trying to pin him for the murders and disappearances? He could _not_ catch a break.

                Logan began to pace again. “Virgil could be some sort of human agent… a human doing a vampire’s bidding during the day.”

                Virgil sighed. “Seriously? Again with this?”

                “Logan,” Patton said softly. “Maybe you should –”

                “You want me to… to what? Stop thinking? Stop being the only rational one in this entire damn building?” Logan asked, his eyes wide and burning with irritation. Virgil leaned away from the sight, despite the fact that he was on the other side of the entryway. It still sent shivers down his spine. Logan went on, waving his hands through the air like a raving madman. “This needs to be solved! It is an _epidemic_. Too many ghouls upsets the balance of nature. Too much of _anything_ upsets the balance. We need to find the root of the problem and –”

                “I’m not the root of the problem!” Virgil cut in tiredly. When Logan turned to glare at him, the movement was punctuated with a low, inhuman growl. Virgil flinched, but didn’t back down. “You wanna find the cause? Fine. But you’re wasting your time pointing fingers at me.”

                “You think you can bluff and fool me?” Logan shook his head and started to stalk towards Virgil. His voice was low and dangerous, Virgil felt his heartbeat kick into high gear as Logan advanced. “You maniacal, devious little –”

                “Logan!” Patton interrupted him, his voice tense and demanding. “We need to focus on finding the _real_ culprit. I don’t… I don’t like the idea of another Emily Carron walking around this world.” Virgil blinked. Emily Carron? Who the hell was that? Patton didn’t answer the question as he went on. “You want proof, Logan? We’ll find it. We’ll keep an eye on Virgil.”

                Logan huffed. “You cannot _constantly_ keep an eye on Virgil.”

                “I can and I will,” Patton said sternly, stepping out of Roman’s sheltering embrace. He carefully skirted around the blocks of moonlight shining through the windows, coming to rest a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “He’s coming home with us.”

                Virgil blinked. “I’m… what now?”

                Logan also seemed a little put-off. “Is that necessary?”

                "Though I _loathe_ to disagree with you, darling... I don't think he _should_ come home with us. He should remain here with the other humans.” Roman objected haughtily. Virgil rolled his eyes. _There_ was the Roman he knew. The one that hated him with a vigor.

                “No. If you think he’s behind this, we need to watch him and see what he does. If another attack occurs while he’s with us, it’ll prove he’s not behind it,” Patton said solidly. Virgil glanced at him, seeing the strange, impersonal glare in Patton’s eyes. It only served to send Virgil’s thoughts spiraling into the realm of fear when he said, “With the way things are going, we won’t have to wait long.”

+++++

                Logan woke to the sound of activity and the smell of… was that _human_ food? He’d nearly forgotten how pungent normal food could be. It was filling his house. He crawled out of his coffin quickly, shutting the lid behind himself. He didn’t want it to seep into the satin lining. Then he’d _never_ get the damn smell of… what was that? Wheat and wheat byproduct? What was Patton _doing_ in the kitchen?

                He stepped out of his bedroom to see Virgil laying back on the sofa, his phone held up above his head as he tapped the screen a few times. Logan’s eyes slid over to see Patton in the small kitchenette, swaying back and forth in front of the stove as Roman sang some unknown ballad to him.

                Virgil noticed him first, and dropped his phone onto his chest. “Hey. Good morning.”

                Logan quirked an eyebrow. “It’s evening, Virgil.”

                Virgil shrugged. “I know.”

                “Have you been here all day?” Logan asked irritably. Virgil nodded.

                “No classes on Thursdays,” he said as he lifted his phone again.

                Logan narrowed his eyes. Just the night before, they’d brought Virgil back to the house and already, he’d made himself at home. There were several different textbooks spread across the coffee table, and Virgil’s injured leg was currently lying atop a stack of pillows with a small bag of ice resting against his stitches. Patton’s doing, most likely.

                He turned to the kitchenette, giving Patton a half-interested look. Patton grinned and said, “I’m making dinner for Virgil! It’s so fun… I haven’t cooked real food in ages!”

                Roman, who was happily sitting on the counter, gave Patton a blissful smile. “And you’re doing wonderfully, darling. Just marvelous. The greatest chefs in the world will envy your skill.”

                Patton laughed at that, stirring… _something_ … around the frying pan in front of him. Logan didn’t know much about human food. Nor did he have to. He never ate it, after all. Casting one last glance at Virgil – who was happily looking at his phone – Logan slipped downstairs and into the body prepping room. A quick glass of blood later, he walked back upstairs to see Roman pulling the curtains shut and shielding the living room from moonlight.

                Logan didn’t mind this as he went to the dining table and picked up his newspaper. Patton had refolded it nicely after he read it. But there was the distinct smell of… ah. Virgil had touched it as well. That wasn’t a problem… but it was also intriguing.

Logan glanced over at the sofa where Virgil lay, happy and complacent on his phone. Had he been checking the paper for more accidents? Probably. Was he acutely aware of how much trouble an army of ghouls could cause? Doubtful. Humans were a self-absorbed species. Anything they feared, they killed. It was the main reason vampires had gone into hiding all those centuries ago.

But that was in the past. Logan snapped open the newspaper. The Governor was starting to launch a city-wide search effort for his daughter. Amanda Cole’s parents had been the first to volunteer, and they had spoken to the newspaper about their efforts. Logan pursed his lips and skimmed the article, blandly glossing over the editor’s flowery descriptions and attempts of heartfelt journalism. Ah, humans… so set on describing the world like poets, they forget what _true_ poetry sounds like.

“Alright, kiddo!” Patton said brightly as he slid food onto a plate. “Dinner’s ready!”

On the sofa, Virgil pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Cool… give me a sec,” he grunted as he carefully lifted his foot from the pillows. Before he could stand, his phone chimed. Logan glanced up, watching the way Virgil picked up his phone and frowned at the message. “Um… I… hang on, I need to call my roommate.”

                In the kitchen, Patton wrung his hands worriedly. “Are they upset that you’re staying here for a few days?”

                Virgil didn’t answer as he held his phone to his ear. The house was quiet as Virgil listened to the phone ring. It was a welcome surprise for Logan; Roman was actually keeping his mouth shut for longer than fifteen seconds. If this was the effect that Virgil was going to have on the household, Logan wouldn’t mind inviting him over more often.

                Virgil sat up a little straighter when his roommate answered. “Hey, Remy… what was that text? Collin banging in and out? What the hell is that?”

Unlike Patton and Roman, Logan could perfectly hear this ‘Remy’ through the phone. Their voice was slightly harried when they said, “Virge! I’m so… this is like… what the fuck, ya know? All these people going missing?”

Virgil tensed. “Yeah.”

Remy sighed into the receiver, and Logan folded his paper and set it aside. This was getting even more interesting. “Okay, so… you know Sarah, right? From psych?” Remy asked, but didn’t wait for an answer as they launched into more details. “So! She and Collin and Madison from Historical Lit. were on a date. Ya know. Like three-ways? They’re _so_ cute. Apparently, they were gonna get freaky in the woods. Which, like, TBH, I don’t mind, but like… don’t come crying to me when you guys get bug bites all up in your business. And Collin was all ‘my condoms are all _really_ old!’ And I was like, ‘well, baby, I’ve been going solo since –'”

Virgil sighed. “Rem, seriously, get to the point.”

“Oh right!” Remy gasped, dramatically announcing, “So… apparently they went up by Terres Park. The one with the lake? Yeah, so… they got out the blanket got it on all _nasty_ in the woods. After that, Sarah and Madison went to do their lady business in the woods… when they came back, they couldn’t find Collin.” Logan narrowed his eyes at that. Another student gone missing. Remy sounded scandalized when he practically whispered, “ _He banged in and banged out, baby!_ Totally gone! Like, he left his phone and wallet and clothes and _everything_!”

Virgil sat on the sofa, completely frozen. Logan saw the way his mouth hung open and his eyes went wide. Though Logan was mostly alarmed by the lack of shame among these younger men, he understood what scared Virgil. It was another disappearance. One he had nothing to do with. Additionally, it was more than likely that Collin was dead, just like the student they’d discovered in the woods by Virgil’s dorm.

“Virgil? He _llo_? You there, girl?” Remy whistled over the phone, but it was clear that Virgil had no idea what to say. Logan didn’t blame him. It was a difficult situation.

So, standing up from the table, Logan walked to the sofa, reached over Virgil’s shoulder, and plucked the smartphone from his hand. Virgil started at the action, but didn’t say anything as Logan ended the call.

“Fortunately,” Logan said stiffly as he placed Virgil’s phone back into his hand. “You are no longer suspect in this chance investigation.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Unfortunately, it means our infamous ghoul-maker is still anonymous and active.”

“Oh, lord,” Patton breathed, reaching for the kitchen counter for support as his legs visibly shook. “Lord, no… no, no, no. No more ghoul-makers. No more ghoul fanatics. Please, no.”

Roman was quick to loop an arm around Patton’s waist, attempting to soothe him. “Now, now… I’m sure it’ll be nothing like the past, beloved. And if it is, I’ll be here to protect you from those monsters.”

Virgil twisted where he sat to look back at Patton questioningly. “Ghoul fanatics?”

“It’s a difficult concept to explain in-depth,” Logan said with a frown as he marched around the perimeter of the room. “But, put simply: they are vampires who think that the creation of ghouls will help in the comeuppance of mankind.”

Virgil’s expression crumbled as he stared at the floor. “Wha… like… they’d just… make ghouls and let them kill people?”

“Overthrow is what Emily said,” Patton whispered as he leaned into Roman’s chest. Roman wrapped his arms around him tighter, holding him close as Patton whispered with wide eyes, “She was so sure it would work.”

When Logan glanced over at him, Virgil still looked lost. That was fine. He didn’t need to know all of the details yet. The plot had thickened. That was enough to keep Logan intrigued. Four students. Two women and two men. To what extent would this vampire go? How many people would be taken? Who was alive… and who was dead?

“It doesn’t matter what Emily said,” Logan muttered lowly as he pulled one of the curtains back a few inches. Moonlight fell on his face as he stared out the window, eyeing the cemetery. It was dark. It was quiet. Logan narrowed his eyes. “She’s dead now. And once I find the person responsible for these ghouls, they will meet the same fate.”

+++++

_Oklahoma – 1881_

_“It will be_ beautiful _, Logan,” Emily smiled as she walked across the hardwood floors. She was barefoot and graceful, a nightmarish and beautiful vision in her nightgown. She turned to smile at him. “I’m going to make the world a better place.”_

_Logan quirk an eyebrow. “It’s bold of you to assume you have that power.”_

_Emily grinned, all bloody teeth and glittering green eyes. “Bold of_ you _to assume I don’t.”_

_“Ms. Carron,” Logan began, indicating to the pistol he had tucked into the waistband of his trousers. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation in which you find yourself.”_

_“Mr. Stein, I don’t think you really understand what I’m trying to do.” She touched the wall, leaving a blood-red handprint that smeared along the old, cracked walls. “I’m going to raise an army of these monsters. Reclaim the world that was meant to be ours.”_

_"We are nether creatures, Emily. We were never meant to reside in this plane permanently." Logan narrowed his eyes. “You were spouting something about an army in New York, too.”_

_“Musing, Mr. Stein. I was_ musing _about an army. Now, I have a full-fledged plan.”_

_Rolling his eyes, Logan fought the urge to simply kill her and be done with it. “Full-fledged sounds out of your reach, Emily.”_

_“Listen, listen, listen… Mr. Stein, I will raise this army as my own. I’ve concocted the perfect recipe for an obedient ghoul.”_

_“Do tell,” Logan deadpanned as Emily circled the kitchen._

_“Lust is a savory motivator, Mr. Stein,” she said lowly as she looked at him through heavily-lidded eyes. “And men are always fools for sin.” She tugged at the low neckline of her nightgown and smiled when Logan didn’t flinch. “Forbidden fruit is an excellent way to get a man’s attention.”_

_“So you motivate your ghouls with the promise of… what? Promiscuity? Copulation?” Logan gave her an unimpressed look. “They are brainless creatures, Carron. Human motivation is different from a ghoul’s.”_

_Emily smiled at that. “I baited them_ before _I change them, Stein. It makes it all the more interesting when I get to see the look of horror in their eyes.”_

_“You are shameless.” Logan leaned back against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets and eyes cast toward the destroyed kitchen. “So… that was your plan? Create ghouls to overpower the human race?” Emily beamed with pride, and Logan sighed in disapproval. “Baiting them will hardly help you. Why would they listen to use once they change?”_

_Emily cocked her head to the side, never losing that devilish grin. “It doesn't matter if they listen,” she whispered knowingly. “All that matters is that they kill humans and spare us the trouble." Logan still wasn't impressed, and Emily pushed the subject, saying, "They aren’t strong enough to hurt us. They don’t even pose a threat.”_

_“Perhaps,” Logan responded, eyeing the blood that was spattered along the wallpaper in the next room. He pulled out his gun again. “But, as you should know, there is power in numbers. They could overwhelm you.”_

_Emily laughed. She_ laughed _. “They wouldn’t be smart enough to do that!”_

 _“Well, it doesn’t take much to outsmart_ you _.”_

_At that, Emily went quiet. Her eyes were on him, watching carefully for any sign of weakness. She would not find any faults in his wit or intellect. Unlike Emily, Logan found pride in his education. He didn’t use his guiles to lure humans to his bed to drink them dry like Emily… he didn’t need to. He was stealthy. Cautious. Smart. Emily didn’t know the meaning of ‘inconspicuous.’_

_“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Emily murmured softly. Her eyes lingered on the gun in Logan’s hand. Logan didn’t respond, and Emily smiled again, walking towards him and smoothing the lapels of his dark, blue coat. “You know Logan… you would be an extremely attractive man… if it weren’t for your personality.” She pouted and slid her hands down his chest, stopping at his belt with a murmur, “It’s your one flaw, Mr. Stein. You have no idea how to really woo a lady.”_

_“Well, when I come across a real lady, I’ll be sure to be more respectful,” Logan responded readily, gripping his pistol tightly as he pressed it to her temple._

_“Oh,” Emily smiled up at him. “I’m sure you will.”_

_Logan pulled the trigger._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pull the trigger, Logan.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> See you next chapter.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Thoughts of suicide are discussed in this chapter**

_Michigan – 1889_

_It was a broad, heavy door. Commissioned from an old friend, Logan had acquired a solid-steel, two-inch-thick door. It came equipped with seven locks, and each one locked from the outside. It was installed at the top of the basement stairs. All windows in said basement had been removed. There was no possible way any light could reach the bottom of those stairs… not even a speck of light would reach him. That was what Logan wanted, after all._

_He lead Patton to this door, showed him the locks and the keys that would hang on Logan’s person keyring. “They’ll remain here,” he promised as Patton gave the locks an unsure look. Logan tucked the keyring into the pocket of his blazer and motioned for Patton to walk down the stairs. “It’s in your best interest to remain in the basement for the duration of the night.”_

_Patton, who was still getting used to the new house, glanced around the freshly-wallpapered walls. “An’… an’ you’re sure? You’re sure those locks can hold me?” He was fidgeting again, rubbing his right arm as if he was cold. He looked suspiciously at the locks again, like he couldn’t trust them. “I… whatever she did to me, I… I ain’t not normal no more. I could… could bust through those things.”_

_Logan twitched at the improper grammar. “You aren’t normal_ anymore. _Not ‘no more.’ Furthermore,” Logan opened the door with ease, motioning for Patton to attempt to move it. “Whilst you are significantly stronger than a human, you are nowhere near as strong as I.”_

_Hesitantly, Patton grasped the side of the door, trying to pull it shut. It hardly moved an inch as Patton’s brow began to glisten with sweat. He gave up after a few moments, wringing his hands and panting as Logan stood by, unimpressed. Pulling out his watch, he glanced at the time. Only a few minutes until sundown. He could feel the air cooling already. He tucked his watch back into his pocket and glanced at Patton expectantly._

_Patton looked down into the basement with a hint of fear. Logan pursed his lips; it was an oddly human emotion for a ghoul to have… but Patton was no ordinary ghoul. He was a rare success. A near-perfect vampire. Whatever Emily had done to him… it was nearly impressive._

_“Sure is mighty dark down there,” Patton mumbled mostly to himself. Logan narrowed his eyes._

_“Perhaps, but your vision should adjust accordingly.” He paused, rocking back on his heels as he thought for a moment. “Unless… your vision hasn’t improved since you where… changed?”_

_Patton bit his lip, finally looking up at Logan with confused, hazel eyes. “No, sir. I still need my glasses… and I couldn’t see nothin’ in that basement Emily put me in.”_

_Logan’s tongue clicked at the grammar-foul. He’d have to train Patton to speak correctly. Hopefully, that would remove the confusion and suspicion the other townsfolk had of him. His accent attracted attention. Logan didn’t need attention. He needed to blend in. To become invisible. Patton would have to do the same._

_“You_ couldn’t _see_ anything _in the basement, Patton,” Logan corrected crisply as he retrieved one of his old oil lamps from the cupboard. The nonsense about the electric light had been running rampant across America, but surely, it couldn’t last. They would probably be found as obsolete soon. He handed Patton the lamp along with a few matchsticks. “Here. There is a bed and a shelf for… personal belongings.”_

_Patton blinked in confusion. “You didn’t let me bring any –”_

_“I know I didn’t let you bring anything. But in the future, I’m sure you’ll gather things.” Logan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Humans are eclectic, kleptomaniac creatures. I’m sure you’ll find_ something _and bring it home.”_

_Patton glanced down at the lamp, his reflection hazy and dusty in the glass as he frowned. “You’re sure… I can’t get out of there?”_

_“Yes,” Logan said stiffly. “I’m sure.”_

_“And… and if I change into… into the thing she made me…” his eyes lifted to meet Logan’s shakily. “You won’t let me out.”_

_“No.”_

_“Good,” Patton breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t… I don’t want to be a monster.”_

_Logan waved Patton down the stairs. “Do not underestimate me, Patton. If you_ do _somehow become a ghoul in the light of day, I will hunt you down.”_

_Patton paused on the bottom step of the stairs, looking up at Logan with wide eyes. “And you’ll kill me? Before I kill anyone else?”_

_Logan stared down at Patton with a hint bitterness on the tip of his tongue. It might happen someday. For all he knew, Patton was a completely different kind of ghoul. Perhaps he could change into a ghoul in the sunlight, as well. How would Logan know? It would be a massacre if he transformed into a beast in the middle of a busy street. Logan’s fingers tightened on the key ring. “Of course I will,” he finally said lowly. “I’ll kill you in an instant.”_

_Patton smiled, his eyes glinting wetly in the sallow light of the stairwell, and whispered a breathless, “Thank you.”_

+++++

                “So… who are you guys again?” Remy said as he crossed his legs and sat back on the sofa. Logan watched him from the doorway, thoroughly unimpressed by the young man’s carefree demeanor. He kept checking his phone and sipping away at that… Logan glared at the cup, unable to read the label from the far side of the living room. Remy gave Virgil a strange look. “First I had to pick you up when you fucked your leg, and now… you’re staying here for a while? When did you go makin’ friends with the funeral people?”

                Virgil, who sat on the sofa opposite of his friend, squirmed in his seat. “It’s… it’s kinda hard to explain.”

                “Virgil’s such a cool kid,” Patton gushed overenthusiastically. Logan rolled his eyes. Ever the people-pleaser, Patton was going to try to compliment his way out of the awkwardness. “I love hearing what the kids are up to these days.”

                “Lit,” Remy nodded with a lopsided grin. Logan made a face at that. Lit? Like a candle, or a match? What was that supposed to mean? Crossing his arms over his chest, Logan glowered at the college student. It was probably another contemporary reference he wouldn’t understand. Remy tapped his phone a few times, scratching a hand through his hair as he sighed heavily. “I mean, whatever, sweetie. If you wanna duck out and hang with the hot funeral guys, go for it.”

                “H-hot funeral…?” Patton sputtered as he flushed a dark pink. “You’re not talking about me, are you?” He whispered, half to himself and half to Remy. In response, Remy winked at him.

                “Sure, why not? You’re cute as heck.” He faced his phone toward Patton and grinned. “You gotta sweet ‘Boy Next Door’ vibe. All grown-up and sweet as sugar. Can I get a picture with you?”

                As if to explain, Virgil slouched in his seat and grumbled, “Remy is studying photography… though I think he just says that so he can get pictures with random guys.”

                Before Patton or Remy could respond, the front door opened and slammed shut. Logan quirked an eyebrow. So, Roman was finally making an appearance. It was about damn time. He was always nervous around strange humans, but if someone showed the slightest interest in Patton? That was apparently a different story. Roman strutted in the room – true Diva that he was – and set his eyes on Patton, all dominance and desire.

                “Patton, my beloved,” he started off small and calm… surely to build drama and tension. Logan shook his head and leaned back against the wall tiredly. Roman stepped across the room, pulling Patton up and out of his chair. “You are indeed beautiful. The most incredible creature I’ve ever seen. I don’t think anyone could appreciate your beauty as much as I.”

                Patton’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked anywhere else in the room. His smile gave away his enjoyment, though. Even Logan could see that. “Thank you,” he managed to mumble as Roman kissed his knuckles.

                “Holy shit that’s _so_ cute,” Remy grinned as he held up his phone. “Hold that pose! Yeah, look into his eyes… kiss his hand like that. Yeah… damn, this is _gay gold_.”

                “Can we get back on topic?” Virgil huffed.

                “ _Please_ ,” Logan insisted as he stepped away from the wall. Once Patton was safely seated in Roman’s lap and Remy had set his phone aside, Logan leaned his hip against the side of the sofa. “It is _very_ late, and your visit was unannounced. I assume you came here to check on Virgil. He is, however, in perfect health.” He raised his eyebrows as Remy stared at him, slack-jawed. “Is there something else we can do for you?”

                Remy lifted his phone and stage-whispered to Virgil behind it. “Dude. Hot nerd alert.”

                “Rem, seriously, why are you here?” Virgil deadpanned. Good. They needed to get to the point.

                Turning his phone over in his hands, Remy sat back and huffed. “Okay, so, like… you hung up on me, so I kinda… _maybe_ … freaked out a little.”

                Logan’s eyelid twitched; that had been _his_ doing. He’d caused this impromptu visit? He cursed himself as Remy shrugged tiredly.

                “I mean, with Collin going missing… and that Amanda girl? And Governor Pine’s daughter?” Remy squirmed where he sat, looking for the first time like he was genuinely anxious and uncomfortable. “It’s getting creepy. You can’t blame me for jumping to conclusions.”

                “Yeah,” Virgil sighed as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Not to mention the guy at the dorms. This is all super weird.”

                Logan stiffened. Remy didn’t know about that victim yet.

                “What?” Remy asked immediately, causing tension to spike in the room. Virgil noticed his mistake and clamped his lips shut as Remy leaned forward and said, “ _What_ guy from the dorms?”

                Surprisingly, Roman came to their rescue. “We heard another little rumor whilst at the store today, didn’t we, darling?” He grinned at Patton – who was pale and speechless – before giving Patton’s thigh a comforting pat. “Apparently another student went out for a smoke and didn’t come back.”

                Remy, to his credit, didn’t look convinced. “Oh yeah? I haven’t heard about that one, yet.”

                “I’m… I’m sure the police will clear things up,” Patton said with a trembling smile. Logan gave him a sidelong look. Patton was a terrible bluff. However, Roman seemed to bolster his courage when he hugged Patton close. Patton’s smile refreshed and he was confident in himself when he said, “There’s going to be a search effort for the Governor’s daughter, right? I’m sure they’ll find everyone just fine.”

                “Yes, I’m sure everyone will be found,” Logan lied as he looked pointedly at Remy. “Now, is there something _else_ we can do for you?”

                Remy pursed his lips. “Jeez, you in a big hurry to get rid of me, Professor?” He pecked his phone for a moment before sighing. “But, like, whatever cuz I’ve got to get going. I need to finish my midterm project anyway…”

                “Excellent,” Roman said lowly. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Patton elbowed Roman in the side, earning a gruff, “Oof!” in response.

                Ever the gracious host, Patton stood and lead Remy out of the room. “Here! I can show you the door. It was so nice of you to visit us again. I’m sure next time…” and he went on and on, bathing Remy in promises of shared meals and unnecessary conversations.

                When the front door finally shut, Virgil buried his face in his hands and groaned, “ _Fuck._ I can’t believe I said that…”

                “At least we can be confident in the fact that you are no evil mastermind,” Roman said calmly as he inspected his fingernails. “No evil genius would give away crucial information. That’s only something a sad, pathetic, foolish mortal would do.”

                “Need I remind you that _you_ were once a foolish, pathetic mortal?” Logan deadpanned with a quirk of an eyebrow. Roman glared at him for that, but Logan happily ignored it. “This unexpected interaction has just served to prove the point that Virgil is _not_ the culprit.”

                “But it begs the question: who _is_ making the ghouls?” Patton said as he lingered in the doorway of the living room anxiously. He rubbed his upper arm, almost like he was cold… but Logan knew better. The scar that gave away his true nature was hidden on his right bicep, dark and damning. Patton squeezed his arm as he studied the floor. “We can’t just let this go on forever.”

                Logan sighed and rounded the room as he spoke. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.” He came to a stop by the window and peeked out the curtains to see the cemetery highlighted by the glow of a sleepy moon. He pulled the curtains shut again. “And I’m positive we aren’t the only ones concerned about it.”

                Virgil’s head lifted at that, and he gave Logan the strangest look. Was he curious? Alarmed? Logan couldn’t read the expression. “Who… who else would be worried about it?” Virgil asked, all childish fear and shuddering concern. “I mean… there are _more_ of you guys in this town?”

                Roman made a face. “You could at least _try_ to sound a little less mortified.”

                “Well, jeez, I’m _sorry_.” Virgil held up his hands in surrender. “My whole life has changed in the span of four fucking days, and you want me to be chill? My bad.”

                “Now, now,” Patton walked over to Roman’s armchair and gave his shoulder a pat. “Let’s all just calm down.” He glanced back at Logan. “I’m sure you have a plan, right?”

                Logan raise his eyebrows. A plan? For what? This nonsense was reminding him too much of Emily’s shenanigans. First New York, then Oklahoma… and now Washington? No, she was dead. Logan remembered killing her. So, who was the culprit? It gnawed at the back of Logan’s mind as he took another pass of the room, mulling over the details.

                Any way he sliced it, the details clicked into a familiar pattern: more students were disappearing, and the areas in which they were taken were becoming wider spread as time passed. No one ghoul could accomplish it. There was more than one. It was most likely that the kidnapped or missing students were becoming ghoul fodder or being transformed _into_ ghouls.

                Logan stopped in his tracks. Just like New York. Just like Oklahoma. He turned back to the trio in the middle of the room. Patton was calmly speaking to Roman. So human. So relaxed. He was one of those monsters created all those years ago. Did he know? Did he know he was the inspiration for hundreds of other vampires to attempt their own ghoul creation? Logan’s mind stuttered and stopped as his brow furrowed.

                Perhaps that’s all this was. Another vampire trying to follow in the footsteps of Emily Carron. If that was the case, it had to be stopped. Another Emily Carron – even on a smaller scale – was going to devastate the nether creature community that had been living quietly in the human realm for millennia.

                Coming to a stop behind the sofa, Logan spoke tersely. “We now know that Virgil is not the culprit. However, this means the killer and creator is still active.”

                Roman huffed. “You said that before the other human arrived.”

                Logan gave him a halfhearted glare before continuing. “So, because we know that Virgil is not involved, we can let him return to his dorm.”

                “Yes!” Roman shouted just as Patton said, “No!”

                They looked at each other, baffled by the other’s statement. Logan, however was uninterested. It was his turn to watch the cemetery. As long as Virgil was gone before daybreak, he would be satisfied. He went to look for his keys as Roman and Patton began to bicker.

                “My _love_ , if he’s not _needed_ here, we should send him back.”

                Patton sputtered. “But… but he’s just a human! He could be killed next!”

                Roman shrugged. “Who are we to fight the flow of nature?”

                “ _Hey_ ,” Virgil exclaimed, giving a Roman a distraught look.

                “We should keep him here,” Patton insisted. “He knows our secret and hasn’t told anyone. It’s the least we can do!”

                Roman threw his hands into the air, flickering in and out of the room as he fought to keep himself corporeal. “I… I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” He appeared in the kitchen next to Logan, looking like a man struggling with heartbreak. “Can you _believe_ this?”

                “I can,” Logan said as he plucked his house keys off the table. “Patton is a walking, talking, bleeding heart. It’s no surprised he wants to coddle the human.”

                Fluttering his hands in the air restlessly, Roman disappeared again. Logan could hear him crying through the walls as he cried, “I don’t want to _lose you,_ beloved!”

                “Honey, I’m not falling in love with Virgil,” Patton soothed. “I just want to make sure he stays safe.”

Roman continued to wail in the living long after Logan had slipped outside. He could hear Roman’s bemoaning through the door. With a roll of his eyes, he set off toward the cemetery, marking a trail through the gravestones. He went around the light of a streetlamp, minding the cracked plaques that littered the grass.

No breaks in the border. Nothing since the night Virgil was attacked. Had that only been four days ago? It felt longer. But at the same time, it was like no time had passed at all. Logan sighed and turned toward the fence that lined the southern edge of the property. No strange scents marked the lines of their territory. No strange vampires or ghouls had made their way onto their land. It was quiet. Irritatingly quiet.

Logan turned when the sound of a door opening echoed through the still evening air. It was the front door. Logan narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t Patton. He wouldn’t dare to go outside with a three-quarter moon hanging high in the sky. And if Roman walked to talk to Logan, he’d simply phase through the side of the house and call Logan’s name.

No… it was Vigil. Logan was already familiar with those uneven footsteps. It was surprising that Patton hadn’t offered to drive him home. It seemed that Remy wasn’t going to pick Virgil up either. Logan watched as Virgil stepped off the sidewalk and onto the grass. He favored his uninjured leg, stumbling toward the edge of the cemetery slowly. Logan raised his eyebrows. What was he doing?

When Virgil came to a stop, he was just a few steps from the first row of gravestones. “Okay,” he said loudly, “I know you’re out here. Can’t really see you… but I know you’re here.”

Logan remained in the shadow of a weeping angel, watching Virgil’s body language. He was nervous and fidgeting. He wrung his hands at his side while he spoke, his eyes searching for Logan in the shadows as he started to speak again.

“Okay, so… I know you want to catch the bad guy. I think we _all_ want to catch the bad guy and stop all this crazy crap. But just because you’re a vampire and I’m a human, it doesn’t give you the right to act like a dick.”

Logan blinked; was he being _scolded_? By a human child?

“I mean,” Virgil went on, “I’m a victim of this stuff, too. I could’ve been killed. And I get it… I’m human. Humans aren’t as cool or strong as you, but… it doesn’t mean you have to act like this. I mean, Patton is a ghoul, right? Even _he_ acts better than you.”

Something in Logan’s stomach churned. Was he upset? Angry? He couldn’t quite tell. He didn’t like this feeling.

                Virgil shifted his weight and hissed when his stitches were pulled. “I get why Roman doesn’t like me. He doesn’t want me stealin’ his man. But that’s whatever.” He shrugged and waved that information away dismissively. “But you really don’t have a reason to act like this. I’ve been trying to help you guys, and you just… you keep turning around on me every chance you get.”

There was a pause. Perhaps he wanted a response. Logan didn’t say anything. Virgil cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Anyway… to sum up. I’m a victim. You’re being a dick. That’s all I gotta say.”

                While Virgil stumbled in a circle and turned back toward the sidewalk, Logan chewed on this little bit of reprimand. He’d never been chastised by a human before. When he was a child, his mother had scolded him, but this was different. Very different.

                Slipping out of the shadows and through the cemetery, Logan pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he stepped onto the sidewalk.

                “I have been told… that I don’t know how to be considerate.” Logan smiled a bit when Virgil spun to face him with wide eyes, clearly surprised. Tilting his head back, he gazed at the stars that littered the sky. He sighed. “I believe I’ve been defined as a sociopath more than once.”

                For a moment, Virgil was quiet. He looked up at the stars, too. Logan lowered his gaze to watch Virgil’s expression, curiously monitoring every flicker of his eyes and flutter of his eyelashes. He looked… almost lost. That was reasonable. He was thrown into the fray of nether creatures without so much as a warning. Did he find comfort in the steadiness of the stars? Logan didn’t know. He simply watched the flicker of Virgil’s eyelashes as his gray irises scanned the night sky.

                “Well… people say that… once you know what you’re doing wrong, you can fix it,” Virgil murmured to the night sky.

Logan raised his eyebrows. Was Virgil talking about him? Was he supposed to change his behavior? ‘Fix’ himself for the comfort of a human? Virgil lowered his gaze to meet Logan’s stare. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t dare to look away. He held Logan’s stare. Like an equal… like a challenge. Logan had always appreciated a challenge.

Virgil spoke, even and to-the-point. Logan liked that, too. He listened attentively when Virgil said, “So maybe… considering we’re all on the same damn side, you could _not_ treat me like something you scrape off the bottom of your shoe.”

                Logan’ felt his lips turn up at the corners. A smile, small and unexpected, appeared on his face as he huffed a single breath of laughter. Virgil was definitely something else. It was rare to meet a human so sure in their conviction, yet so careful in their execution. Logan liked it. He liked it very much. Being stood up to was… in a word, it was nearly comical. No, not comical. Refreshing.

                Roman tried to stand up to Logan, of course… but most of his advances could be shut down with a simple threat of an exorcism. Patton wouldn’t dare to fight back unless Roman’s safety was at stake… Virgil, however, just wanted to press Logan. Would it push Logan toward something better? Would it make him a better man? He couldn’t quite tell.

                Scratching his eyebrow, Logan glanced at the sallow light of the street lamp. “It’s… quite late.”

                “Almost eleven,” Virgil noted as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

                “Would you…” Logan chewed on the words in his mouth for a moment, unsure if he wanted to extend the offer. Virgil looked at him with a half-interested glint in his eyes and a smile lingering on his face. Logan sighed and waved toward the house. “Would you feel _safer_ if you stayed here, with us?”

                Shuffling his foot, Virgil pursed his lips and hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno… are you just offering because you feel bad about treating me like a criminal before?”

                Logan twitched. “I don’t… _feel bad_. I was completely justified in my earlier suspicion.”

                “Uh-huh,” Virgil nodded sarcastically. Logan gave him a sidelong glare.

                “I’m offering you safety and shelter from wandering ghouls, Virgil,” Logan said flatly as he indicated toward the house. “We have already planned to keep you here with us until your innocence was proven, anyway.”

                Virgil shrugged awkwardly, glancing out into the dark, open streets before turning back to Logan. “You’re sure you can live with a human in your house?”

                Logan rolled his eyes and straightened his tie. “I already have a _dead_ human living in my house,” he gave Virgil a wry smile. “I’m sure I can handle a living one.”

+++++

_Michigan – 1889_

_Patton wiggled his feet as he laid back on his bed. It was dark in the basement… but after three months of living behind the locked door, he’d learned to appreciate the dim light and soft silence. At night, he’d be locked away… hidden from the moonlight and the prying eyes of the neighbors. During the day, he’d go through the pitying and empathetic role of a funeral director._

_All in all, life was fine. It was lonely, constricting, and a bit numb. But fine, all the same. These days, when the house was quiet and no clients came knocking on their door, Patton found himself leaning his head against the upstairs windowpane, watching the world pass him by. Solitary, restricted life… was this was he was reduced to? He was a monster. The pet of another evil creature. Trapped in time and left living a half-life._

_He missed his family. He missed the ignorant bliss he experienced back home. He missed when he could walk through the towns with a lovely girl on his arm and feel content. Patton closed his eyes. He was fine. He was… fine._

_Against the wall, his bookshelf rattled. Patton glanced over at the shelf, seeing waves in his glass of water. He blinked tiredly. He was he being haunted? If he_ was _, by whom was he haunted? Not that it mattered. At this point, wouldn’t it be better for him to be haunted and killed? It would be better than living as this… this… whatever he was._

_“Is someone there?” Patton asked, carefully working to keep his southern accent at bay. Silence met his ears, and he watched the waves in his water smooth into ordinary, unremarkable stillness. He closed his eyes and sighed. Part of him was happy. Another part was sad… and wishing for company. Perhaps it was the dark. Perhaps it was the quiet. Carefully, slowly, Patton opened his eyes and whispered, “I’m lonely.”_

_Silence. Damning, deafening silence. Patton glanced over at his bookshelf once more. He’d stowed a steak knife behind the board on the third shelf a week ago. Would he use it? Could he? Would it be better to be dead than be a monster? He looked away, hoping to keep that itching, depressing desire away for just a few more days._

_The bookshelf rattled once more, and Patton sat up when he heard a metallic_ clunk _on the floor. Adjusting his glasses, Patton stared at the kitchen knife. Was it a sign? Were the greater forces of the world telling him that he wasn’t supposed to be alive? Emily had done something terrible. She’d distorted the human he used to be… and in response, he’d run from his family in hopes of protecting them._

_Was this karma’s idea of a consolation prize?_

_Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Patton stood up. His eyes never left the kitchen knife. He walked the three steps to the bookshelf. The knife was at his feet. He could see his reflection, spotty and dim in light of his oil lamp, on the blade. He saw the sunken, dark circles under his eyes. The way his once sun-kissed, curly hair was turning an ashen, dirty brown. Even his glasses hung loosely on his face, sliding down his nose as he looked down at himself. He’d lost so much weight… but food didn’t satisfy his hunger. Logan suspected it was due to the change in his body… and Patton hated it._

_Gritting his teeth, Patton bent down to pick up the knife… only to have it skitter across the floor toward the far wall. Patton stumbled back, staring over at the knife in disbelief. It was almost like someone had come and kicked the knife away. But Patton was the only one in the basement. Was he… was he really haunted by a ghost? Was it Emily’s? What did she want him to do? Die or not die?_

_Trying to shake the tremble out of his hands, Patton walked over to where the knife had landed. It was the dark corner of the basement, where the light of the lamp hardly reached. He bent down to pick it up once more, but it went flying across the room again. Patton huffed. This wasn’t fair. Didn’t a man have the right to end his miserable, monstrous life?_

_After letting out a tired huff, Patton stomped his foot on the dusty, old floor. “Please, just…” Just what? Patton didn’t know what he wanted to say. ‘Let me die?’ That didn’t sound quite right. He stepped over the knife and sat down on his bed, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know what… what to do…” He murmured – to himself, or to the ghost haunting him? Even he wasn’t sure._

_“Give it a day,” a voice called from the stairs. Patton jolted where he sat, lifting his head to see a man sitting on the steps. He was smiling, but there wasn’t joy in the expression. Patton blinked hard; was this his ghost? The man leaned his chin into his palm as he smiled down at Patton, sad and sweet all at once. “It would be a shame for the world to lose an angel like you.”_

_Patton opened his mouth to say something… but nothing came out. He was flabbergasted. No one had called him an angel before. Much less a man. Clearing his throat uneasily, Patton watched the man carefully. He seemed fuzzy at the edges. Like the photographs that hung in his home. Fading away as the years went on._

_“Are… are you real? Or a ghost?” Patton asked, his words hardly more than a whisper._

_The man cocked his head to the side, smiling that sad, sad smile. “Honestly? I’m not sure.” He waved toward the knife calmly. “I’m real enough to move that damn thing, at least.”_

_Glancing down at the weapon, Patton wallowed thickly and simply asked, “Why?”_

_“Why?” The man echoed incredulously. “Because… in all the time I’ve been in his house, I’ve never seen a man so lovely… yet so melancholy.” He tapped his toe against the wooden board of the stair steps, but it made no sound. Patton watched the fidgeting movement while he man mulled his next words. “You have a kindness about you, angel. I think the world is a better place with kindness, don’t you?”_

_Patton made a face at that. “I’m… no angel.” The ghost hummed in confusion, and Patton rubbed at the scar under his sleeve. “I’m a monster.”_

_The ghost was quiet for a moment, watching Patton with those blue, blue eyes. When he spoke, he sounded so tired… so sad. Patton’s heart ached at the sound. “You seem to be nothing less than a saint, my dear man. From each word to speak, to each blessed movement… you are a gift.”_

_Patton huffed a laugh and shook his head. Was this a dream? Was he trying to fool himself into feeling better? It wasn’t working. “I’m not,” Patton said softly. “I’m not,” Patton repeated. The ghost said nothing. Patton eyed the knife. Dream or real, it still lingered, heavy and sharp in his mind._

_“Give it a day,” the ghost said once more. Patton lifted his gaze, meeting the ghost with a troubled, desperate expression. The ghost smiled. “Please, angel. Wait a day. Live one more for me.”_

_“Why?” Patton pressed, leaning forward on the edge of the bed. “Why should I?”_

_The ghost smiled. Empty. Sad. Forgotten. He smiled and Patton swore a tear rolled down that pale, pale cheek. “Because you deserve to live at least one more day, angel. I know you do.”_

_+++++_

                Logan stepped into the house a few minutes before daybreak. No ghoul sightings throughout the night. Not even a strange rustle in the wind caught his attention. It was infuriating. Even so, he slipped up the stairs, pulling at his tie as he climbed each step. He stopped when he reached the living room, quirking an eyebrow at the view that awaited him.

                Patton and Virgil were asleep at the table. Papers were spread out between the two of them. Quietly creeping around the edge of the table, Logan craned his neck to see the scribbles on the sheets. He smiled a bit; it seemed Virgil was attempting to teach Patton mathematics. Specifically, multiplication. It would make sense that Patton wouldn’t remember a lot of it. His education was a very long time ago.

                Loosening his tie, Logan turned up his collar as Roman stepped out of Patton’s bedroom. Roman looked surprised by his appearance. “Morning already?”

                Logan shook his head, heading for his own room. “Not quite. Sun will be rising soon, I’m sure.”

                “Oh, and my poor angel just fell asleep,” Roman cooed, all lovesick and gentle. Logan rolled his eyes as he hung his tie on the rack in his room. He lingered in the doorway after that, watching the way Virgil slept with his face buried in his crossed arms. “How long were they up?”

                “I think Virgil made it to 2 a.m.,” Roman said with a sniff. “Patton tried to stay up and practice the math nonsense… but fell asleep soon after.”

                Giving Roman a half-interested look, Logan smirked. “I’m surprised you didn’t drag him to bed.”

                As if this idea had only just struck him, Roman sauntered over to the table, placed a kiss to Patton’s hair, and shook his shoulder a bit. “Darling? It can’t be good to sleep at a table. Come and lay with me?” Patton mumbled something in response. It was something soft and sleepy, and Roman got that misty, hopelessly happy look on his face. “Of course, darling.”

                Logan quirked an eyebrow as he stepped into his bedroom once more. Once there, he toed off his shoes and shuffled them under his coffin. He heard Patton yawn in the living room and stumble into his room. His box spring creaked and groaned as he laid down, and the sound repeated as Roman settled in next to him. There was a moment of silence where Logan cleaned his foggy glasses, but then… Roman began to sing.

                It was an old 1920’s crooner. One that Logan almost remembered. One about the stars and the sky… and the beautiful person a man shared his time with. Logan opened his coffin as Roman sang, low and loving, in the next room. He strung out each note, each word, each vibrato. He was making it last longer than it should. But it wasn’t unpleasant. Logan could admit that Roman had a beautiful voice – even if the sound of him talking for hours on end was excruciatingly painful. This was different.

                The ballad dripped slow and sweet like honey. Patton normally had Roman sing him to sleep when he had bad dreams. He never spoke to Logan about those dreams… it was always Roman. Only Roman. That didn’t bother Logan. He was silently appreciative of the fact that he, too, got to hear Roman sing. Even if it was through the thin walls. Even if he was tired. He stood beside his coffin and listened as Roman rounded a verse, swept back, and started over. Effortless and enchanting.

                “I didn’t know he could sing,” Virgil whispered.

Logan’s gaze slid over to the doorway, seeing the way Virgil leaned against the doorframe in a sort of awe-struck wonder. Logan was surprised at himself; he hadn’t even noticed Virgil getting up from the table and walking across the living room. Was this what some people called ‘the magic of music?’ Probably. He watched as Virgil took a deep breath and let out a tired yawn. Logan echoed the sound, opening his eyes to see Virgil watching him with a small smile.

“He’s good,” Virgil whispered as Roman moved onto a new song. “I’ll give him that.”

“He is,” Logan admitted. “Before he died, Roman used to be a singer. A thespian, it would seem.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows, giving the wall that separated Logan and Patton’s room an impressed look. “That’s… not so surprising. He’s pretty dramatic.”

Logan let out a quiet laugh as he ran his hand over the smooth surface of his casket. “I think that’s just his personality, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah. He’s pretty…” Virgil waved a hand. “Extra.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Extra what?”

Virgil snorted. “Don’t worry about it.” There was a pause, and Virgil shuffled is foot awkwardly. After a moment, he tiptoed further into Logan’s room. “Can… can I ask you something?”

Rolling his shoulders back, Logan took a tired breath. “I suppose.”

“Why is he so crazy about Patton?” Virgil asked quietly, sounding more irritated than curious. “I mean, I get it. He loves the guy. But… it’s a little obsessive.” He shrugged, and Logan quirked an eyebrow. “Or maybe I’m just reading too deep into things.”

Logan gave Virgil an appreciative look. “Yes, Roman is melodramatic. But he’s not obsessed.” He crossed his arms and listened to Roman start a new song. “I know very little of Roman’s private, living affairs. He only speaks about those things with Patton. However,” he gave Virgil a look, “When he died, he was not _allowed_ to express his love for another man. In that day and age, it was illegal. My hypothesis is that he’s showering Patton with all of this affection simply because _he can_.”

Nodding a little, Virgil didn’t seem satisfied. “Isn’t it... like, a bit much?”

“Perhaps. But I’m not the one to ask,” Logan said as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I’m no expert when it comes to affection or romance.”

“Welcome to the club,” Virgil huffed sarcastically as he stared at the wall again. He was listening to the song. Logan listened, too. Watching the way Virgil smiled at certain lyrics. Interesting. Logan watched Virgil sigh sadly as Roman’s singing come to a gentle end. He didn’t start a new song. Patton must’ve fallen asleep.  Virgil finally turned to Logan and gave him a tired smile. “It’s way too early for people to be awake… I think I’m gonna crash on the couch for a few more hours. Maybe ‘til I have to go to class…”

Logan nodded in agreement. He was exhausted. But, as a nocturnal creature, his complaining made more sense than Virgil’s half-hearted grumbling. While Virgil turned and started to limp to the living room, Logan remembered their earlier conversation. What did Virgil want? To be treated better? Logan pursed his lips.

“Goodnight, Virgil,” said Logan carefully. Virgil paused in the doorway, turning around to give Logan a small, surprised smile. Logan smiled at bit in return, giving Virgil a small inclination of his head as he said, “Sleep well.”

“Yeah,” Virgil nodded as he reached for the doorknob and pulled the door shut. Just before it closed, he muttered a quick and quiet, “You, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.  
> See you next chapter!


	6. Chapter 5

_Oklahoma – 1881_

_Patton loved to walk through the dusty streets with the love of his life. Emily was always so sweet. Always so warm. Patton could feel himself falling head over heels for her smile. Her laugh. Her voice. Emily, Emily, Emily... he wanted to drown in her._

_"Patton," even the way she said his name sent Patton's heart pounding. He smiled down at her, watching the way she leaned into his arm and smiled up at him through her parasol. "You know I love you so... when will you ask for me?"_

_Patton grinned, feeling his face flush at the question. "I'd ask for you now, if I could. But your father is away... I can't possibly ask for your hand without his permission."_

_Emily tossed her head back – oh, the fall of her red hair was so perfect – and laughed. "So noble, so chivalrous! I want to take all of you, Patton. What would you give me?"_

_Patton paused their promenade to take Emily's dainty, gloved hand in his own. Her emerald eyes shone lovingly in the sunlight, and the blue bow on her petticoat ruffled in the wind. She was stunning. Patton had to remind himself to breathe as he stopped to kiss her hand._

_"Emily Carron, it is a mighty-fine honor to love you," he said with a smile, holding her hand to his breast. "I'd give you my heart and soul, if I could."_

_Emily's smile was brilliant, and her eyes shone with something Patton had never seen before. "I will take your heart, my beloved," she said softly, leaning forward to tip her parasol so it hid her and Patton's face from onlookers. She grasped his collar, pulled him down with more force than needed, and whispered against his lips, "I would take your heart this instance, if I could."_

+++++

                Logan stepped into the living room with a chip on his shoulder, rubbing the back of his stiff neck as he rounded the sofa and headed for the stairs. Patton and Virgil were at the table, leisurely discussing something as Roman spun one of Virgil’s spare pencils around on the table.

                All in all, it was an oddly domestic scene. Logan narrowed his eyes; he’d never been part of a domestic lifestyle. Even when he was with his parents, everything was on edge. Nothing was relaxed. Everything was on the precipice of falling to ruin.

                He _could_ interrupt their conversation. He _could_ tell them that they should be focusing on the creator of the ghouls. He _could_ insist that they should hunt down the perpetrator of the attacks… and yet, he stood with his hip leaning against the railing of the stairs. He listened to Virgil’s questions about vampires and ghouls, his inquiries about common myths and misunderstandings… and Patton was calm and complacent as he answered each one.

                Logan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall with a half-interested expression. When he’d first met Patton, there had been nothing short of frightened anxiety between the two of them. And that discomfort lasted for months, if not years… however, once Logan discovered that Roman had been lurking in the house, he realized just how disjointed their living situation had been. He realized just how much he _didn’t_ know about Patton… and how little he’d tried to do to remedy that.

                Getting rid of that distance had taken time and effort. If Logan was completely honest, he could admit that the rift between Patton and him had never completely gone away. However, Patton and Roman had no space between the two of them. Patton had fallen for Roman with every fiber of his being… and the feeling had been mutual. No distance. No fear. Now, with Virgil, Patton was _just_ as open. It was almost irritating to observe.

Was it a human thing? A base-emotion that Logan didn’t understand? Or perhaps a chemical reaction that he couldn’t trigger? Patton had once been human... maybe that’s why he got along with Virgil so well. Or, maybe it was just Patton’s natural, personable nature. But, if that was the case, he should’ve been able to get along with Logan just as well.

                Pursing his lips, Logan watched and feigned disinterest as Roman stood from the table and sauntered over to him. “I don’t think they’re going to stop any time soon,” Roman grumbled as he stood next to Logan at the top of the stairs. Logan hummed lowly in response, and Roman clicked his tongue. “They’ve been at it ever since Virgil came back from his classes…”

                “Interesting,” Logan said absently as he watched the way Virgil flicked a piece of purple hair from his eyes. There was a brief fraction of a second where Virgil glanced at him – Logan noticed it when Virgil’s lips quirked into a small smile before looking away. Raising his eyebrows, Logan smiled a bit as well, ignoring the way Roman sighed and leaned heavily against the wall. “He’s simply curious, Roman. I can appreciate that.”

                Scuffling his shoes against the hardwood floors – it hardly made a sound – Roman pouted. “Can’t he be curious in the morning? I’m sure my darling angel is tired.”

                “Virgil is an odd human. You’re going to have to get used to late nights,” Logan said with a hint of a laugh in his voice. He descended the stairs slowly, muttering over his shoulder, “You don’t even sleep, anyway.”

                After retrieving a glass of blood, Logan returned upstairs to find his newspaper. Patton almost _always_ left it on the table for him. However, he paused in the middle of the stairway when he heard his name mentioned on the floor above.

                “So… if all vampires have like, crazy good senses, why does Logan wear glasses?” There was an uncomfortable pause in the wake of Virgil’s question, and the poor boy tried to back-peddle his way out of it. “I mean, it’s not like it’s weird, or whatever… I’m just curious. Is it just to look normal? Or…?”

                Roman stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed and face passive as he watched the conversation unfold. For a fraction of a second, his eyes flickered to Logan. Their gazes caught, holding for a moment, before Roman looked away, feigning ignorance. Logan was appreciative for that as he stood still and listened carefully.

                Patton’s voice was soft and slightly harried as he said, “Well, I’m… not sure I should say.”

                Logan’s eye twitched at that. Patton was being respectful. That was a good thing. So… why was he irritated about this topic? Because _Virgil_ was the one asking? He felt uneasy. All muscles tensed as he gripped the handle of his mug tightly. Roman gave him a half-interested look. Logan ignored it.

                “I didn’t mean to… ask something super personal,” Virgil muttered lowly. Logan leaned against the wall of the stairwell, glaring at the steps in front of him as Virgil sighed. “Just forget I asked.”

                “It’s… I don’t know all the details myself,” Patton admitted lowly. “It happened before I met him.”

                There was a pause. A shift at the table. The floor creaked beneath the strain of a chair. “Was it an accident?” Virgil asked, soft and considerate. Roman cocked his head to the side, curious at Virgil’s compassion. It was a warm way to word things… hopeful. Wishful. Praying that whatever happened… was a mistake and nothing more. Nonetheless, Logan closed his eyes tight and grimaced.

                Patton let out a cream-colored sigh. “Well, you… you know how your parents tell you to never stare at the sun?”

                “Well, yeah, ‘cuz… wait. Did he just stare at the sun?” Virgil sounded incredulous, and almost like he was about to laugh. Logan couldn’t help but grit his teeth at that.

                “It’s more complicated than that,” Patton admitted softly. So gently. So kindly. He didn’t even know the full lengths of what Logan went through, all those years ago. And still… he was careful when he described what he _did_ know. “He was forced to stare into the sun. He was tortured… for a long time.”

                Logan winced at the statement, removing his glasses to rub at his eyes in irritation. He could almost feel the burn of that light… the way his skin blistered, healed, and blistered all over again. He remembered the way the world went dark, came back in a blur, and went black over and over again… it was the worst torture he’d ever been through. It was the reason Logan would never go back to New York, no matter how much he loved it.

                “Wh-why?” Virgil asked. He didn’t want to know. But he asked anyway. “Doesn’t… doesn’t he heal really fast? Why didn’t he…”

                “Like I said, kiddo: I don’t know all the details,” Patton said gently. “It was before I met him. As for the healing… even vampires have their weaknesses. Some things can’t be fixed. Some things… you just have to live with.”

                Logan had heard enough. He ascended the stairs, stomping louder than necessary so Virgil could hear him coming. The conversation halted, and there was an audible scramble at the table, almost like they were trying to cover up the last topic of conversation with something – _anything_ – else.

                “Good evening,” he greeted as he sidestepped the table and headed for his armchair. Virgil mumbled some sort of ‘hello,’ as he shuffled his homework and set it in a neat pile. Logan set his mug on the coffee table, opened his newspaper with a _snap,_ and started to read.

                Search efforts for Amanda Cole were gaining fruitless results. Furthermore, the Governor’s daughter was still nowhere to be found. It was almost like they’d vanished into thin air. Logan frowned and turned the page to find more of the article. Now, a boy named Peter had been reported missing. It was most likely the boy from the woods behind Virgil’s dorm. Logan frowned at the article; he knew better. People didn’t disappear. Not entirely. They bodies were always _somewhere_. He just needed to weed out _where_ and _why_ it was all happening.

                Not that it mattered much to him personally.

                If he found the person responsible for creating the ghouls, he’d happily kill them to preserve his own – and Patton’s and Roman’s – safety. He couldn’t really care less about what happened to the humans that had been taken prior… he was a busy man. People were dying to get into his mortuary. He had bodies to clean and prepare for burial. He had to keep the ruse that he was no more than a human. He didn’t have _time_ to worry about missing children.

                But, Logan mused as his finger slid along the edge of the paper, what if… it had been _Virgil_ that was kidnapped all those nights ago? Would he still be so flippant in his regards? Something was odd about him. Something sparked Logan’s interest, much to his own dismay. It wasn’t infatuation, nor was it admiration. It was… curiosity? Vague, inquisitive, interest? Logan frowned and folded his paper down, stealing a glance at Virgil’s back. He was definitely drawn to the human. He just didn’t know for what reason he _was_.

                Maybe Virgil had some nether creature blood in him. Maybe Virgil’s family had dabbled in magic and the dark arts. That may have left a discerning mark on the boy… what had his mother done? Logan combed back through his memories, hazily recalling the paperwork that went towards Virgil’s mother’s burial. Five feet and eight inches of tall, beautiful woman. Frail and worn by sickness. Faint bruises that hinted at domestic and/or sexual abuse.

                Logan tsked at himself; that wasn’t the information he wanted. He pushed back through cobwebs of memory, trying to recall what he’d written. She had been an… an herbalist. A spiritualist. Some sort of new-age, aesthetically-assaulting nonsense that reminded Logan of the Spiritualist Movement sparked in New York by the Fox sisters… but that had been far back in 1848. Were humans still obsessed with contacting the nether realms? Did they really think they could control such power?

                Lifting his paper once more, Logan hid behind the lines of language, eager to get to the bottom of his odd fixation. He had more important things to worry about. To hell with his interest in Virgil… he had a ghoul-maker to find and very little time to do so. If any more humans were taken, a panic would break out – if it hadn’t already. They needed to move… and _fast._

                Setting the paper aside, Logan cleared his throat. Three men turned to look at him, each with varying degrees of interest. The attentive glint in Virgil’s eyes was appreciated. The bored glare of Roman’s was not.

                “We have been sitting on the sidelines of this predicament,” Logan said lowly, pressing his hands together and touching his fingertips to his lips. “Simply waiting for a ghoul to appear within our territory is irresponsible. We should be doing our part to find the perpetrator.”

                At the table, Patton shifted uncomfortably. “W-well… shouldn’t the others be doing their part, too?”

                “Others,” Virgil echoed, almost to himself. Logan gave him an interesting look, but Virgil didn’t seem to notice it. “You guys mentioned ‘others’ before. Like… are there a lot of… vampires and stuff here in town?”

                “There is _one_ other vampire that I know of,” Logan said thoughtfully, “Along with an alchemist and a werewolf, but neither of them seem to care much about their territory borders or nether creature affairs.” He crossed his legs and took a deep breath. “If anything, I could suspect Dmitri of the ghoul transformations… if he weren’t so inept.”

                Virgil glanced at Patton and muttered, “Dmitri?”

                “The other vampire in town,” Patton answered in a stage-whisper before turning to Logan. “And, honestly… from what we’ve seen of Dmitri, he wouldn’t be able to make ghouls. He’s not very… well, he isn’t quite…”

                “He’s an idiot,” Roman finished crisply while Patton sputtered some sort of denial.

                Logan nodded in agreement. “It’s true… but that simply makes things worse. If it _isn’t_ Dmitri, that means there’s another vampire skulking around the area.” He narrowed his eyes. “One who _knows_ they trespassed that night, and did it anyway… they need to be confronted.”

                “’Kay,” Virgil muttered with a shrug. “So… how’re you gonna find them?”

                Logan tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair, his eyes unfocused and swimming with the details of this minor mystery. “The culprit is taking young adults. College-aged and at their physical primes. This is no mistake… Patton, you were also taken around that time, weren’t you?”

                At the table, Patton stiffened and looked away. “I was… I was twenty-four years-old.”

                Logan nodded. “That’s reasonably within Emily’s old desired time-frame… but Emily is dead. So, it can’t be her.

                “Seriously, who the _fuck_ is Emily?” Virgil asked, clearly exasperated. Logan ignored him.

                “Young adults… humans who are susceptible to outside influence and change. Taken… changed, and used to hunt others.” Logan rubbed his chin thoughtfully as the other occupants of the house sat, quiet and uncomfortable, unwilling to add to his investigation. Logan frowned. “It could be that the death of the student behind Virgil’s dorm was an accident. A miscalculation on the part of the vampire. The ghoul used to take the humans must’ve gotten out of control.”

                Finally, Roman looked up from where he’d been studying the floor. “What about the ghoul that attacked Virgil? It seemed keen on killing _him_.”

                “Gee, thanks,” Virgil grumbled.

                “Another miscalculation,” Logan said as he waved that away. “That, or perhaps the vampire pulling the strings decided that Virgil wasn’t quite fit to be a ghoul.”

                “Ha!” Roman barked a laugh as he pointed at Virgil. “Not fit to be a ghoul when the bar is _so, so low!_ ”

                “Shut up. I wouldn’t want to be a ghoul anyway,” Virgil rolled his eyes, paused, and looked to Patton. The poor man looked crushed by this development, and Virgil was quick to give him a pat on the shoulder. “No offence, Pat.”

                “Oh… oh, none taken,” Patton lied uneasily, his smile shaken and hollow as he looked to Logan. “Were you going somewhere with all of this?”

                Logan nodded, a smile fresh on his lips. “Yes, I think so… we need to set a trap for this vampire and its underlings.” The other men were quiet, and Logan rolled his eyes tiredly. Couldn’t they see the obvious?  They had everything they needed to catch the attacker. “They want young, strong humans? We’ll give them one.”

                Roman snorted a little, muttering under his breath, “A vampire hunting a vampire… the _irony_.”

                Virgil, however, was unhappy with this development. “Woah, woah… you’re like… talking about using a person as bait?”

                “Quite right,” Logan said as he uncrossed his legs and smoothed the top of his trousers. “I’m sure you’d be up to the challenge.”

                “Oh my,” Roman said, his voice pitched toward curious scandalization. “I like where this is going.”

                Virgil shot him a glare before looking back to Logan. “No. No way. You don’t just volunteer me for that crap.”

                “I _said_ young, strong _humans_. I never said it had to be just you.” Logan’s stare slid over to Patton, seeing the way the smaller man shivered and shied away from his gaze. Logan narrowed his eyes, a wry smile on his lips. “We’ll have Patton with you.”

                “Outside?” Patton whispered, sounding a bit bewildered. “At night?”

                “Don’t work yourself up, Patton,” Logan stood up from his chair and straightened his tie. “There’s no moon tonight.”

                Roman made a face at that. “That’s is _awfully_ conditional… there’s no guarantee he won’t change. He’s only gone outside at night… what? Once? Since you found him?”

                Logan didn’t miss the way Patton’s expression darkened. It almost looked like he wanted to snap at Roman, but he never did. Logan turned his attention back to the wraith. “Moonlight is the catalyst that makes the transformation happen. This has been proven in Patton’s case.”

                Virgil cleared his throat loudly. “’Scuse me, but… I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

                “Aw, are you afraid of the big bad ghoul?” Roman cooed in a sing-song voice.

                “That’s enough,” Patton said stiffly before he smiled at Virgil. “Don’t worry… I’ll be there with you.”

                Patton obviously meant for this to comfort Virgil, but from the uneasy look in Virgil’s eyes, he didn’t quite trust Patton. That was smart… Patton might be the one to attack, if they weren’t careful. Logan narrowed his eyes and glanced at the curtain-covered windows. The night was slipping past them the longer they waited, and he didn’t have any more time to spare.

                “Come along then,” Logan said, waving Virgil and Patton from their seats at the table as he made his way to the stairs. “We don’t have all evening.”

+++++

_Oklahoma – 1881_

_"Patton, I need your help!" Emily's voice was a mix of frayed concern and desperation. Her hands held a white, lacy parasol, and they clenched the handle anxiously as she stood before Patton's family farmhouse. "The wagon is stuck and the servants have gone with Papa upstate..." she batted her eyelashes at Patton -- that beautiful woman_ knew _Patton wouldn't be able to resist -- and stuck out her lower lip in a childish pout. "You're so strong, beloved... come and help me?"_

_Standing in his mother's herb garden with his hands caked in dirt, Patton hesitated. He was supposed to help his father with the harvest. The rest of his family were already in the fields, and his mother was laid in bed with a bad case of the vapors... could he spare the time?_

_With another flutter of Emily's eyelashes, Patton's heart melted._

_"Of course," He practically sighed with a love-struck smile, rolling up his sleeves. Emily smiled at the sight, waving him down the road. He walked at her right side, idly wiping sweat from his brow. "Hot day, ain't it, Miss Carron?"_

_Emily smiled as she looked straight ahead, twirling her parasol happily. "It is. I'm so lucky to have you, Patton. You're such a wonderful, strong man."_

_Patton laughed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "Well shucks... you don't have to make me blush."_

_Emily didn't say anything as they continued on their way. It was several miles to Emily's house, and Patton had no idea where the wagon has gotten stuck. Hopefully not in one of the fields. What would she be doing out there anyway? Though, the longer they walked -- around the town, past the Richmonds' fields -- Patton found himself more and more confused._

_Why did Emily come to_ him _and not ask someone closer to her for help? Did she walk the entire nine miles to his house just to see him because she missed him? It was quite a distance for a fine young woman to walk, especially in one of her elegant, heavy dresses. Patton gave her a sideways glance; was she being coy?_

_"Where was the wagon stuck, Miss Carron?"_

_"Just outside the barn," Emily let out a long-suffering sigh, holding a hand to her cheek sadly. "And I'm not strong enough to move it."_

_Patton nodded thoughtfully, adjusting his glasses with a grin. "Don't you worry, ma'am. I'll get it unstuck faster than you can say, 'I love you.'"_

_Emily giggled, all high and adoring. "That's why I love you so, Patton. You're so obedient." Patton startled at that; Emily never said things like that. Was she making fun of him? The thought was wiped away when Emily pointed at the edge of her farmhouse. "There... see it? I knew I had to come to you. I only trust you to do it right."_

_Patton squinted; the wagon was just stuck in a rut._ Anyone _could get that wagon unstuck. But if his Emily wanted him, she would have him._

_After a few hesitant moments beside the wagon, Patton rolled up his sleeves and gripped the undercarriage with a steady grip. Emily stood to the side, watching with heavy-lidded eyes and a smile. Patton grunted as he pushed up, feeling the strain in his legs as he lifted the wagon off the ground. His arms trembled with effort, and with a grunt, he pushed forward. The wagon stuck – why were the wheels rusty? Had it been there long? – and after initial resistance, Patton managed to stumble forward a step, dropping the wagon on the even ground with a breath of relief._

_Standing close by, Emily clapped her hands gleefully. "Oh, I knew you could do it! Patton, you wonderful, wonderful man!"_

_Standing up straight, Patton smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow once more. Emily seemed to notice this, and gestured to her lovely little farmhouse._

_"You poor thing. It's hot! Care for a glass of sweet tea?" Emily cocked her head to the side with that sweet, sweet smile. "Come along inside. I'm sure I can make something for you."_

_Patton blushed. Being alone with Emily in her father's home? That was practically_ begging _for trouble. And yet, when Emily smiled just like that and gave him that wondrously devious look, Patton found himself falling head over heels all over again._

_He pushed his glasses up on his face with a tired smile. "Well shoot, Miss... I wouldn't want to put you out none."_

_Dipping her chin a little, Emily waved him to the house. "Not at all, Patton. I think I might get a drink, too." She took his arm and lead him to the front door, her smile ever-present as she said, "I'm parched."_

+++++

                “This is stupid,” Virgil muttered as he sat on the grass with Patton. They were in the dark, with only the streetlamp at the corner highlighting the tree line only ten feet away from them. They were waiting. For what? For a monster to come charging at them? Virgil grimaced and stretched out his injured leg. “This is _so_ stupid.”

                Patton made a low, anxious noise. “It’s… not the most _attractive_ plan when you put it on paper, but it’s smart.”

                Virgil gave him a sidelong glance, seeing the way Patton rubbed his right arm nervously. “How is setting us by the trees ‘smart?’”

                “It’s simple, but efficient,” Patton said lowly, his gaze not leaving the glow of the streetlamp. “We want to find the ghoul… so we need to set bait. And _you_ are the only human that Logan trusts.”

                Virgil felt something stutter and stop in his brain. Logan… _trusted_ him? It sure as hell didn’t seem like he did. If anything, it seemed like Logan was just keeping an eye on him to see whether or not Virgil was secretly hiding something.

                “Speaking of Logan… where the hell is he? And where’s Roman?”

                Patton hummed, low and disinterested, as he fidgeted next to Virgil. “They’re probably watching from a distance. Ghouls can tell if someone is alive or dead… we can feel the pulse of life from several meters away… though Logan’s sense is much stronger.”

                Pulse of life? Did that mean a heartbeat, or something else? Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. He watched Patton for a second, seeing his hazel eyes dart around wildly when a branch somewhere beyond them _snapped_ or the leaves of the trees rustled in agitation.

                “I get that _they_ get to watch… but… aren’t you…” ‘Dead?’ Was that really what he wanted to ask Patton? They poor guy was still rubbing his arm, scratching at the fabric of his sleeve so hard, Virgil was sure he’d tear a hole in the thin sleeve.

                Patton laughed, but it was so high and caught in his throat, it almost sounded hysterical. “O-oh, I’m not… I’m…” Patton twitched uncomfortably and stood up. Virgil tensed at the sudden change of atmosphere. What was wrong with him? Was he changing without the moonlight? Was he becoming a ghoul? Should he be scared? Patton started to pace in the wide-open grass, almost like he was afraid of being fenced-in. “I’m not… I’m… I don’t feel good. We should go inside. We sh-should…”

                Virgil watched him for a second, admiring the dark, fearful glint in Patton’s eyes. He looked like he was having a nervous breakdown. Virgil had been through those before… but no one else had been around. What had he needed? What should he do?

                “Hey, Pat… uh… are you… um…” Trying to keep his distance, Virgil leaned back, watching Patton’s paranoid expression and wringing hands. This was not the warm, relaxed, parental Patton that he knew. This man was just a frightened human-being, one breath away from snapping and turning into a monster. Virgil stood up, holding his hands out for support. “Hey. What can I do? What do you need?”

                Patton paused, looking at Virgil with wide, confused eyes. Virgil made a face at the reaction. Had no one ever offered help when he was like this? No… Virgil frowned, feeling pity drip into his expression. Patton had rarely been outside at night. This was probably new to him. He was just scared and suspicious… of Virgil, or himself? It didn’t matter.

                “I… want…” Patton’s hands raked through is hair before he shrugged out of his cardigan. He fought with the zipper for a second before ripping his way out of the garment, holding the fabric with a white-knuckle grip. He looked suffocated, like his own skin was too tight and too hot. He glanced at the tree line, looking mildly hysteric before he looked back at Virgil. “I want to go back home,” he laughed, but it was still too high-pitched to be sincere. It almost looked like he wanted to cry. “I want Roman.”

                Pursing his lips, Virgil pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was just after 2 a.m. They’d been sitting in the grass for over four hours. Nothing had happened. Virgil lifted his head and gave Patton a sympathetic look.

                “Okay,” Virgil said, low and even. That seemed to soothe Patton, and his jittering lessened a bit. Virgil gestured back to the mortuary, only a meagre one-hundred yards away. “Let’s go back. Nothing’s going to happen tonight.”

                Patton smiled, visibly relieved. “Oh, _thank you_ …” he glanced down at the cardigan in his hands, almost irritated at its presence, before tying it around his shoulders and smiling tiredly. “I’m… I’m just not good with nighttime. Makes me nervous.” He started toward the mortuary with Virgil, taking slow, trembling steps. “I… I was changed at night, you know.”

                Virgil tried to be polite and not ask too many questions. “Oh, yeah?”

                Patton fiddled with the knot of his cardigan sleeves, smiling that shaky, fake smile. “Y-yeah… Emily took advantage of my good faith. I thought I could trust her…”

                Virgil twitched; who the _hell_ was Emily? Logan and Patton had mentioned her multiple times before, but didn’t give a real, full backstory. He had little pieces of information… she had changed Patton. That meant she was a vampire. Logan had mentioned something about New York… and then Oklahoma. Where did it start? How many ghouls did she make? What had she truly tried to accomplish?

                Instead of asking, Virgil bit the side of his tongue and pushed his hands into his pockets. “That’s scary… but, people say that almost all attacks against you will be done by people you know.”

                Patton stopped walking. He gave Virgil a terrified look. “Really?”

                “I guess.”

                “That’s… well, too bad I didn’t know that when Emily rolled into town,” Patton laughed, but it was humorless. His eyes looked far away when he glanced back over his shoulder, staring at the place where he and Virgil had been sitting just moments before. “I don’t remember all of it… but I remember waking up at night. I remember a moonless sky… lots of stars.”

                Patton was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing as he recalled some dark, unfortunate memory. Virgil shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably. What was he supposed to say to that? ‘I’m sorry you were turned into a monster?’ He didn’t know what Emily had meant to Patton… but he’d obviously thought a lot of her before she had changed him.

                Rocking back on his heels, Virgil pursed his lips and sighed. “Look, I… I’m sorry, Pat, but I don’t really understand what –”

                “Shush,” Patton said, waving his hand at Virgil to keep quiet. He was still staring off toward, the grass, seemingly lost in thought. Virgil arched an eyebrow and made a face at that.

                “Hey. I just want to say I’m sorry she –”

                “ _Quiet_ ,” Patton hissed, finally turning to face Virgil. Virgil nearly stumbled back and away from him; his eyes were fiery. Ready to sear holes in Virgil’s skull… and yet, there was still that flicker of fear. Something unsure deep in the swirling green and brown of his bright, hazel eyes. Virgil tensed, almost ready to run with the way Patton breathed, “I… think I hear…”

                The trees tore open. Heavy, thudding feet hit the grass and soil, too fast, too strong, too loud… Virgil hardly had a chance to turn and see it coming. Gray skin… black, sunken eyes, and those long, jagged teeth. Virgil felt himself freeze in fear; it was a ghoul. Just like the one that had attacked him in the cemetery. Something flickered in his brain; if there was no moon… how did the ghoul transform?

                “Virgil!” Patton screeched, his voice so far away… but so close at the same time.

                Virgil felt a body slam into him… but it wasn’t the ghoul. It was Patton. They hit the grass and rolled, and Virgil felt the stitched in his legs pull and tear at vulnerable, healing skin. His throat burned… was he screaming? He couldn’t feel it. Where was Logan? Would he save them? He wrenched his eyes open to see Patton looming over him, his face turned toward the ghoul and his jaw clenched tight. His hands gripped Virgil’s arms too hard, pinning him to the ground while the ghoul, only a liberal ten feet away, scratched at the ground.

                It growled at Patton, digging its claws into the dirt. Was it trying to intimidate him or trying to challenge him? Virgil wasn’t sure. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as Patton started to tremble. Not in rage… not like he was changing… he was _scared._ Virgil felt his stomach heave with chilling terror; Patton wasn’t going to save him. He _couldn’t_. Patton was probably going to be ripped to shreds, just like Virgil.

                Like a coiled spring, the ghoul lunged. Patton flinched away, pressing himself down over Virgil in an attempt to shield him from those razor-sharp claws and gnashing teeth. Virgil tensed, closing his eyes tight against the cold, painful approach of death… but it never came.

                The wild, sickening _crunch_ and _snap_ of bones rang through the air. Even the sickening tear of flesh was loud and barbaric as it filled Virgil’s ears. But Patton didn’t move. He wasn’t even jostled a bit where he hard-pressed Virgil into the dirt.

                “Logan!” Roman’s voice resonated oddly in the cold air, and Virgil flinched at the sound, cringing against Patton’s shoulder as Roman cried, “Logan, enough! We need it _alive!”_

                Virgil’s eyes snapped open. Logan? He’d gotten to the ghoul. The _snap_ of bone and tear of flesh… it was the ghoul. Or Logan. Or possibly both. Peeking around Patton’s shoulder, Virgil sought out his savior, seeing nothing short of a fictional portrait of a vampire.

                Logan’s silhouette was highlighted by the streetlamp, but it was almost ethereal. In that low light, Virgil could see the spatter of dark, grayish-red blood dappling his button-up shirt. He didn’t look real. Tall and broad-shouldered, he stood with those long, long legs over a ghoul. The heel of his clean, polished shoe was pressing down on the throat of the beast, holding it to the ground while Logan’s lip curled around a growl. Virgil blinked in disbelief; Logan normally met these ‘irritations’ with a disinterested eye… this time, he looked furious.

                Shakily, Patton lifted himself off Virgil, rolling over and sitting on the grass with a tired, trembling huff. The ghoul still writhed on the ground beneath Logan, its hands reaching up and scratching at his legs in a vain attempt to push him away.

                “Progress,” Logan muttered lowly, his words clouding in the chilled night air. He glanced back over his shoulder at Virgil and Patton, his blood-spattered glasses catching the glare of the streetlamp and glowing eerily as he held the ghoul in place. “Messy, but progress nonetheless. We can see if this ghoul can change back into… whomever they used to be.”

                Patton sighed, relieved. “Good… I don’t want to eat another one.”

                Half sat up, Virgil paused. What did Patton say? He gave the man a horrified look. “What?” Patton bit his lip and looked at Logan, looking like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. Virgil swallowed thickly. “Eat another… another ghoul? You’ve… you’ve eaten them before?”

                There was a pause, heavy and uncomfortable. Patton didn’t speak. He didn’t even dare to look at Virgil. He held a hand to his stomach, giving the ground a guilty look. Virgil felt his own stomach twist sickeningly; Patton really _was_ a monster. He was just very good at hiding it.

                “Silly boy,” Roman’s voice echoed rang oddly in the air as he appeared next to Logan. He looked down at the ghoul, disgusted and irritated, before looking to Virgil with heavy-lidded, tired eyes. “What do you think happened to the first ghoul that attacked you?”

                Virgil blinked hard, feeling something rise up in his throat and choke off a shaky inhale. Whoever the ghoul had been… Amanda Cole? Governor Pines’ daughter? It would always be a mystery. They were gone. He glanced at Patton, eyes wide and untrusting as he murmured, “Y-you… you ate…”

                As if to excuse the action, Patton shrugged sheepishly and murmured, “I was hungry.”

                Cold, uncomfortable fear settled into Virgil’s veins. He turned away from Patton, seeing the way Logan watched and gauged his reaction. That disinterested look in his eyes was back. It was so cold. So _distant_. As if the loss of a life didn’t really matter to him. Virgil felt his heart stutter at the sight; they were _all_ monsters. Real, horrible creatures from the horror stories come to life… they’d seemed so normal at first. So _human_. But they weren’t. They were _not_ human. Humans were their prey. Humans were nothing but a meal to them.

                Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, Virgil felt his arms tremble beneath his weight. Each breath came in short, terrified gasps. He’d spent time with Patton. He’d _trusted_ him. But… how easily could Patton kill him? How easily could Patton _devour_ him? That warm smile and fatherly gaze… it hid something truly terrible.

                “Please, contain yourself, Virgil,” Logan muttered lowly. Virgil didn’t bother to glare at him. With a heavy sigh, Logan’s voice was low and even as he said, “It was only _one_ ghoul. We are capable of much worse.”

                That didn’t make anything better. But Virgil couldn’t say that out loud. His voice wouldn’t cooperate. His stomach heaved in fear and disgust. Patton didn’t try to comfort him. Roman didn’t have a witty retort. This was _normal_ for them. Bile rose up in his throat, and Virgil didn’t try to swallow it down. Leaning heavily into his hands, Virgil vomited.

+++++

_Oklahoma – 1881_

_Patton woke in a cold sweat. The world around him was blurred. It was cold. No... hot? Hot enough that he sweat. Cold enough to make the condensation feel like ice. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes. Where were his glasses?_

_Struggling a bit, Patton felt his arms restrained. He was pinned to something... not a bed. It was hard, like metal. Panic rose in his throat, and he choked on every breath as he struggled against the restraints._

_He tried to scream, but a thick band of cotton was tied over his mouth. Shapes and shadows jumped in his vision, and he jerked violently against the heavy, metal cuffs on his wrists and ankles. After a few minutes, he got dizzy and had to fall back against the metal slab, tired and winded._

_He couldn't remember what happened. He helped Emily with the wagon. He went into her home. He... didn't remember. It was all a dark, hazy blur. As he lay limp but panicked, he focused on the darkness. He remembered... Emily. Emily's voice. Not afraid... knowing. Calm. She knew that this would happen. She did this to him. He remembered something wet pouring over his fingers. The smell of copper. Hot metal on his tongue. Burning flesh that smelled so, so wrong. Patton flinched at the memory, moving his tongue along the back of his teeth to remind himself that his tongue was still there._

_What had happened to him? Where was he?_

_Above him, a light shone. Too pale to be sunlight. Starlight. It was nighttime, then. And he was all alone. He relaxed against the metal at his back. Tears welled in his eyes. He didn't want to believe that Emily had done this. She loved him... didn't she? Where was she? Was this a sick joke?_

_Patton closed his eyes, feeling the tears run back into his hair. Hot, hot, cold... the burn faded to a chill._

_"Oh, don't cry," Emily said softly from a corner of the room. Patton jumped at the sound, but didn't struggle. There was no use. He simply pivoted his head, attempting to find Emily's familiar shape in the distorted shadows. Her voice echoed eerily in the room as she said, "You're so fragile now. But you can be better. I'm going to make you_ better _."_

_Patton blinked slowly. She was insane. Where was she? He turned his head frantically, trying to find the source of her voice as she moved closer. "You're strong, Patton. I need someone like that. But... you're beneath me. I like it when men are beneath me."_

_Throwing reason to the wind, Patton pulled at his restraints, feeling metal dig into his wrists and ankles as he kicked and thrashed. Emily seemed unfazed, and her voice rang loud and clear over the clanging of metal against metal. "I won't make you like me. No... that would make us equal. We are_ not _equal."_

_Patton's writhing came to a halt when he felt two soft, delicate hands frame his face. He looked up at Emily. Her eyes shining oddly in the dark. Her mouth a wicked grin. Patton's heart raced. She was going to kill him. He just knew it._

_"You poor, poor monster," she cooed, trailing her fingernails across his cheek. She poked and prodded at his cheekbones, counting his freckles. He shook his head, attempting to dislodge her hands. She merely gripped his chin and held him in place, leaning close to whisper, "It takes time... the transformation. But when it's done, you will be better. And you will be_ mine _." She gave Patton that sweet, perfect smile. Even without his glasses, he could see it. And it horrified him. The smile never left her face as she said, "You_ will _be a success. You_ must _be… I’m going to make my father proud."_

+++++

                Logan stared down into the darkness of the basement, seeing the vague outline of the ghoul he’d caught outside. It was despairingly still and hardly even breathing… perhaps he had killed it. That would be unfortunate, given that he wanted to interrogate the person behind the monster.

                But… in a strange, irritating way, he couldn’t help what he did. He’d heard Virgil scream. That loud, frightened shriek. Desperate to stay alive. Eager to be saved. Something had snapped in Logan’s chest… desperation? Mutually-exchanged fear? He wasn’t sure what it was. But he’d raced for Virgil. He’d be infuriated by that ghoul; how _dare_ it try to kill him?

                Gritting his teeth, Logan slammed the basement door, hearing the wood _crack_ and the hinges creak in protest. He was flustered and angry for some vague, unsure reason. When he had produced the plan of using a human being as bait to lure out one of the many ghouls roaming the area, he’d been calm and detached. Unworried at the very least. But then… at the sound of Virgil’s shout, he’d felt something he hadn’t felt in many years: _fear_.

                His nerves were frayed. Each breath felt suffocating. Logan adjusted his tie, pulling at the blue silk as he slipped into the body prepping room for a calming glass of blood. He brought that cup with him as he went upstairs, meeting Roman at the top of the stairs.

                “He hasn’t moved from the sofa in _hours_ ,” Roman complained where he stood against the wall, his arms crossed and expression unimpressed.

                Logan made a face at that, stepping forward to peek over the each of the sofa. Virgil was laid out with a cold compress on his forehead. After he’d gotten sick in the grass, he’d been unable to stand on his own… most likely due to post-traumatic stress.

                “Humans are fragile,” Logan said sternly as he took a sip of blood. Virgil’s heartbeat was slow and even, just like his breathing. He’d fallen asleep. This was not much of a surprise considering he’d been up all night with Patton. He drummed his fingers against the side of his cup, paying very little attention to Roman’s unhappy grumbling. “He needs to sleep. You can’t fault on human circadian rhythms.”

                “I can fault him for making Patton feel terrible,” Roman muttered in response.

                Raising his eyebrows, Logan looked to the kitchenette where Patton was busying himself with the coffeemaker. He’d been quiet since they had returned to the house. It was understandable; Patton had truly enjoyed making friends with Virgil. Now, it seemed the young man was thoroughly afraid of him. Logan narrowed his eyes; did that hurt Patton? Was he upset with Virgil’s fear, or with his own state of being? Logan didn’t really know if he cared to learn which.

                Trying to soothe Patton’s injured confidence, Roman appeared next to him, brushing Patton’s hair from his eyes with a warm, loving smile. Once there, he whispered in Patton’s ear, low and intimate. “Oh, sweet angel… he just doesn’t know what a good man you are! You needn’t worry yourself with _him_.” Patton didn’t comment on that. He didn’t even smile. Roman grew a little desperate, giving Patton a hug from behind as he murmured, “You are no monster, darling. I can tell you that much. Please… please don’t be upset.”

                Logan rolled his eyes and stepped away from the kitchen. It was early morning. The sun had risen nearly a half-hour ago. It was past Logan’s normal bedtime, but with Patton’s current state of mind, he was in no state to mind the mortuary. That meant Logan would have to stay up later, just in case a client came calling.

                Pursing his lips, Logan went to settle into his armchair. He had some time before the mortuary was officially open for business. The newspaper was waiting for him on the small coffee table, and he busied himself with a sub article about the Governor’s race for office. The minutes ticked past, burning through the early hours of the morning while Patton drifted through his daily routine of cleaning and organizing.

                “You’re up late…” Logan’s eyes snapped up from the paper to see Virgil staring at him from the sofa.

                He’d pulled the cold compress from his face and had been watching Logan. For how long? Logan wasn’t sure. Virgil blinked slowly, watching Logan with those deep, admiring gray eyes. Logan wasn’t sure whether to smile or not; Virgil had been afraid of them _all_. He’d only let Roman help him back to the house. Why? Because Roman was the most human of them? Logan folded the paper and draped it over his lap.

                “Patton is indisposed at the moment,” said Logan, his eyes trained on Virgil’s expression. Fear and indecision flickered over his pale, tired face. It was washed away when Virgil blinked.

                “Is he…” Virgil paused, chewing his words before whispering, “Is he taking care of that ghoul?”

                In the kitchen, Patton stiffened and looked to the sofa with wide, hurt eyes. Logan ignored this. Virgil wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt Patton; he had no idea Patton was only a few steps away. Roman was quick to wrap his arms around Patton’s shoulders and bury his face in Patton’s neck, attempting to coddle the pain away. Logan also ignored that.

                “No, he isn’t.” Logan smoothed the newspaper and set it back on the coffee table. “The ghoul is in the basement.” Virgil twitched at that his eyes going a little wide, and Logan was quick to soothe him. “It’s restrained, I assure you. If it weren’t, I would have needed to put a heavier door in place. Unfortunately,” Logan adjusted his glasses. “That kind of installation attracts attention.”

                Virgil hummed, a little thoughtful as he glanced at the floor. “Is Patton mad?”

                Logan lifted his chin, giving Patton a pointed, attentive gaze. Patton was alert and listening, but he didn’t step forward. There was hope in his eyes. Hope of being accepted by someone _human_. It meant something to him, and though Logan didn’t quite understand why, he didn’t condemn the desire.

                “No,” said Logan softly. “A smidge hurt, perhaps. Maybe a little offended… but not angry.”

                Virgil smiled, but it was dark and sad. “Yeah… he’s not the kinda guy to get mad.” His eyes lifted, catching Logan’s steely stare and holding it as he murmured, “Are you?”

                Logan arched an eyebrow. “Am I what?”

                “Are you mad?”

                Hesitating to answer, Logan felt his brow furrow in thought. _Was_ he angry about Virgil’s reaction? It had seemed normal. And justified. But… was he _upset_ by it? He couldn’t tell. The interaction was in black and white. There were no colorful, interest-sparking areas. He didn’t see it… or feel it. The only time he’d _felt_ something was when Virgil was in danger. When he raced for them, his eyes wide and body on auto-pilot as he tore the ghoul away from Virgil. That was it. The only true feeling he’d focused on.

                Logan’s eyes narrowed; why was he so bothered by that feeling? Was it because he was upset to be _feeling_ in the first place? Was it because Virgil had made such a large impact on them in such a short amount of time? Or… was it because he’d made a specific impact on _Logan_ in such a short time? Blinking slowly, he lifted eyes from the floor and met Virgil halfway.

                “I am not,” Logan finally answered, seeing Virgil’s tired eyes search his face for any sign of a lie. Even if he _was_ lying, Virgil would never know. Logan smiled. “I’m not angry with you, Virgil.”

                He was _furious_ with the ghoul. If he hadn’t expressed restraint, he would’ve ripped the creature apart. It didn’t make sense… the trap had been _his_ idea. Using Virgil had been _his_ suggestion. Despite that, when the ghoul attacked, Logan had been inconsolably enraged. Roman had to shout for him to stop, to keep the damned thing _alive_ , and Logan had hardly been able to hold himself back.

                Shifting on the couch a bit, Virgil sighed. “I guess your plan worked, Specs.”

                “I suppose it did,” Logan said crisply. It could only be counted as a success if the ghoul actually _survived_ long enough to change back into a human… if it even could.

                Virgil glanced over at him, all silver eyes and lazy smiles. “So… you just stayin’ up late to keep me company?”

                Logan couldn’t help but smile at that. Virgil was amusing… and charismatic in a self-deprecating, introverted way. His wry grin was different from Roman’s. The laughter glittering in his eyes was different from Patton’s. Crossing his legs at the ankle, Logan rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

                “I might be,” Logan said with a disinterested bluff. “Or I might be waiting for you to fall asleep.”

                Virgil’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “You gonna bite me?”

                “As only a true monster can,” Logan answered with a dark smile.

                To his surprise, Virgil only laughed. After the reaction he’d had outside, the atmosphere was a polar-opposite to what Logan had expected. He couldn’t lie… he was grateful for that. Losing his thin connection to Virgil – or whatever it was – would be a great loss to him, though he wasn’t sure why. Virgil’s down-to-earth, sensible presence was important to Logan. And if he could figure out why, any amount of time was worth spending.

                Virgil’s voice snapped Logan out of his thoughts, ringing soft and amused in the living room as he said, “I know you’re not gonna hurt me.” His eyes narrowed, crinkling at the edges as he smiled that lopsided, knowing smile. “You guys may be monsters… but if you were going to do something to me, you would’ve done it forever ago.” There was a pause, and Logan caught his breath as Virgil muttered, “Outside… that scared me, but… I trust you.”

                “I know,” Logan lied readily, his fingers drumming along the armrest of his chair. Something flared in his chest. Not life. Not anger. Something else… emotion pure and flowing with dopamine and serotonin. Logan gave a small inclination of his head, smiling at Virgil’s sleepy, content smile. “Thank you, Virgil. I can only hope we live up to your expectations.”

                Virgil snorted at that, shaking his head. “C’mon, Specs… you guys already have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens... is it one step forward, or three steps back?  
> We'll see.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> See you next chapter.


	7. Chapter 6

_Michigan – 1891_

_Patton’s knees quaked as he stood in the kitchen doorway. He needed to run to Roman, to help him… but the moonlight that streamed through the kitchen gave him pause. He hadn’t been outside since… since Emily. He didn’t want to change... he didn’t want to be a monster._

_Still… he couldn’t stand to lose Roman._

_“Logan, please stop!” He cried from the doorway, leaning out as far as he could without leaning into the light._

_Logan stood in front of the Prince family mausoleum and the doors were open wide before him. He’d just finished putting a line of salt in front of the door. Roman was on the other side, trapped in the crypt with a tortured look on his face, more than once. He tried to run through that barrier… only to disappear and reappear inside the crypt again. His lips moved like he was shouting, but there was no sound. Patton felt his heart tearing itself apart at the sight._

_“Please!” Patton cried again, watching the way Logan pull out a tin of some sort of water seal. He was going to seal the salt over the door. Patton’s heart stopped; he’d never see Roman again. “Logan! Logan, no! Please, please don’t do this!”_

_Unscrewing the cap of the tin, Logan looked unmoved by the plea. “It’s for your own protection, Patton.” He started to pour the seal, and Patton felt his body jolt at the sight. “He can’t control his corporeality… he could give us away.”_

_“It’s for you, Logan. Don’t lie to me as say it’s for my own good!” Patton shouted as he tore his way out of the house and into the yard. Logan saw him coming and turned, catching Patton’s hands as they sought out the water-seal. Patton didn’t care. He clawed and scratched at Logan, feebly attempting to knock the tin from his hands. Logan held him at bay easily, his eyes wide with confusion as Patton shouted, “He’s all I have! You brought me here with_ nothing _! Not even a will to live! He’s all I have… you can’t just… you can’t…!”_

_Patton’s foot slipped on the dewy grass and he lost his footing. Tumbling onto the grass, Patton started to cry. Heavy, gasping sobs that made him feel like a child. Breathless and shaking… he felt his muscles tighten. His nerves began to burn. His head pounded._

_“Beloved,” Roman’s voice was soft, and so close… Patton looked up and saw Roman kneeling next to him. His hands were on Patton’s shoulders, but Patton couldn’t feel it. Everything was numb… and hot. He glanced at the doorway of the mausoleums and huffed a breathless laugh; his little stumble and broken the line of salt. Roman was free for now. “Darling angel, are you hurt?”_

_“No,” Patton whispered as he glanced up at the sky. The moon was full and clear, shining down on him in damnation. He swallowed thickly. “No, I’m… I’m…” Patton’s words caught in this throat… bile rose up, but he couldn’t vomit. His insides were on fire, but he didn’t faint. His bones felt like they were going to snap in submission… his muscles pulled like taffy while his teeth started to elongate and sharpen to fine, deadly points._

_He wasn’t himself anymore. He was a bystander to the creature he was becoming. He saw through those eyes… but felt nothing. Not even when he jumped at Logan and blindly attacked him. He heard Roman scream. He saw the black blood splatter… but couldn’t stop it. He was trapped. A prisoner in his own body._

_“Patton!” Roman shouted, almost a high-pitched, desperate screech. “Please, stop! This isn’t you! I_ know _this isn’t you!”_

_Patton tried to pull at the reigns. To stop himself. But he couldn’t. He watched in horror as his body – or the body that trapped him – turned to Roman. The first person he’d ever loved. The first and only lover he ever wanted._

_He charged, and Roman didn’t jump out of the way._

_+++++_

                Patton jolted awake, his hand flying to his chest as he gasped for breath. The room was quiet aside from his huffing and puffing, and he fumbled for the lamp chord on the bedside table. The light sputtered and flickered to life as he grabbed his glasses and put them on with trembling hands.

                It was a dream, and nothing more… still, it was a long time since he’d had a nightmare about that night. Maybe going outside triggered it? Patton wasn’t sure. He reached to the left, hoping to feel Roman beneath him… but he wasn’t there.

                “Roman?” Patton called, his eyes going wide in the dim room. He jumped when he saw Roman sitting on the vanity, peeking past the curtains over the far window. He turned to Patton with a gentle smile and a soft sigh.

                “I’m here,” he said softly, standing up and crossing the room with long, languid steps. Patton caught his breath, eyeing the tired glint in his lovers’ eye and the fall of his curly, brown hair over his brow. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching up a hand to brush his thumb over Patton’s cheek. Loving and kind… but cold as death itself. Roman smiled nonetheless. “Was it a nightmare, love?”

                Patton didn’t answer. He leaned forward and caught Roman in a kiss, pulling him close as he possibly could. Roman didn’t mind. He kissed back, but without urgency. Patton clung to him, and Roman allowed himself to be held. Patton just needed to know that he was still there… still with him… not trapped in the Prince Family Crypt… but with _him_. Real and solid beneath his hands.

                “You’re avoiding the question,” Roman purred against Patton’s lips with a knowing smile. “And, as much as I love using sex as a distraction, my darling… I think we know better.”

                Patton frowned at that; Roman always saw through him at times like this. Looking away, Patton rested his cheek on Roman’s shoulder, choosing to stare down at the blankets as Roman’s fingers slowly carded through his hair.

                “Is this because of Virgil?” Roman asked, his voice sharp despite the low tone. Patton shook his head a bit, hugging himself a little closer to Roman. There was a pause, and Roman was gentler when he asked, “Is it because of the ghoul?”

                “No,” Patton said before he hesitated, biting his tongue. “Maybe. It made me think of… of that night…”

                Roman stiffened in his arms, for a moment, Patton was scared that Roman would disappear, leaving him alone in his room with his thoughts. To his relief, Roman remained corporeal. He’d gotten much better at it over the years… but Patton’s fear never really went away.

                “That night?” Roman echoed, a hint of confusion in his voice. “What night?”

                “The night Logan found you,” Patton whispered into the thin, stiff fabric of Roman’s shirt. “I think… going outside made me remember.”

                Roman clicked his tongue and pressed his cheek against Patton’s hair. A soothing pressure… a comforting presence. Patton smiled when Roman said, “I _knew_ you should’ve stayed inside…”

                “I’ll be fine,” Patton murmured, mostly to himself. His eyelids drooped, and he let them flutter shut as Roman rubbed his back comfortingly. “What time is it?”

                “Half past two in the afternoon,” Roman said gently. “You were up almost all night after we put the ghoul in the basement… I’m not surprised you slept this long.”

                Patton hummed thoughtfully but didn’t open his eyes. His southern accent came through thick and heavy as he mumbled, “’m still tired.”

                Roman laughed that low, rumbling chuckle that made Patton’s tummy do little somersaults. “Again, I’m not surprised.”

                Smiling a little, Patton lifted his head and said, “Kiss me?” with his eyes still closed. A kiss was pressed to his lips, and Patton giggled. “Again?” Another kiss... another and another and another… until Patton was pressed back into the pillows, his eyes closed in contentment and his mind at ease. Above him, Roman sighed.

                “You are simply breathtaking, my love.”

                Patton grinned cheekily. “You don’t have any breath… you don’t need to breathe.”

                Roman held a hand to his breast in mock-offense. “I _could_ if I _wanted to._ ”

                “You’re silly,” Patton said with a smile as he tapped the tip of Roman’s nose with his finger. Roman smiled.

                “You’re irresistible,” Roman answered with that lovesick smile that Patton loved.

                Reaching up his hands, Patton took Roman’s shoulders and pulled him down until they were tangled together in the bedsheets. Warm and cold making a strange, comforting equilibrium. Patton curled himself in Roman’s arms, his nose pressed against the cold of Roman’s neck.

                “Stay with me,” Patton whispered, more of a request than a statement. “Until I fall asleep?”

                “Oh, my angel…” Roman murmured before he pressed a kiss to Patton’s hair. “I’m offended you would even ask.”

+++++

                Logan sat in the living room quietly as he read an old, calming classic by Harold Macgrath. Virgil had come home several hours ago and was pouring over his homework at the dinner table. The silence was occasionally broken by the scratch of Virgil’s mechanical pencil on paper, the light flutter of pages as one of them turned a page in their respective books. Logan liked this… this soft, easygoing quiet. It was almost relaxing.

                Until Patton’s bedroom door swung open and Roman strutted into the room, of course.

                “Good evening, Logan,” he greeted with a wide, dazzling smiled. Logan rolled his eyes at that. Roman turned to Virgil and flicked is wrist dismissively. “Interloper.”

                “Wow. If it isn’t Casper the Batshit-Crazy Ghost,” Virgil deadpanned, not even bothering to look up from his assignment.

                Recoiling from the insult, Roman fled to the safety of Patton’s arms as he stepped into the living room. Patton returned the embrace, of course, but Logan could see the stutter in his movements. Discomfort… anxiety? Logan couldn’t be sure. These were complex thoughts and emotions, after all. Maybe Patton was ill. Maybe he was still upset about Virgil’s reaction to his true nature. Maybe it was none of those things. Logan closed his book.

                “Patton, good to see you’re finally awake,” he said lowly, struggling to keep the irritation from creeping into his tone. Patton smiled and gave him an apologetic look.

                “Yeah… sorry about that.” Patton untangled himself from Roman to hold his hand and walk him to the kitchenette. Once there, Roman made a show of kissing along Patton’s shoulder while Patton made coffee. He sounded calm and collected when he asked, “Did we get any calls?”

                “A few,” Logan said as he stood from his armchair and smooth the silk fabric of his necktie. “Two funeral services and a waiting notice.”

                Slowly, Patton set the coffee carafe into place. “It’s strange… with all that happening, I almost… I almost wish that we could take a break from what we do.”

                At the table, Virgil pivoted in his seat, giving Patton a curious, pitying look. Logan caught that look. What did it mean? Did he understand what Patton meant? Logan didn’t. He hardly ever understood Patton’s trepidation with death… and rarely caught the moments where the thoughts of humans dying made Patton visibly uncomfortable.

                Why? _Why_ did it bother him? Patton was half-dead himself. Trapped in a dystopic purgatory that humans could only imagine in their wildest dreams. He would never change. He would never decay. He would stay the same… and simply _be_. Was that not the epitome of the human dream? To live forever? Logan hesitated, his brow furrowing. No… that wasn’t what Patton had achieved.

                He’d been granted a half-life. An unfulfilled, tormented state of being. Much like Logan. Much like Roman. There, but not… on the brink of existence but still grasping onto the thin fabric of human dreams. Out of place in the world with nowhere else they could go.

                Logan watched the way Patton continued through his morning routine; he made coffee and served Virgil a cup with a smile. He wiped down the kitchen counter. He kissed Roman with a smile ever-present on his tired, forlorn face. Alive… and not. Logan almost pitied him… just like Virgil did.

                Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Logan stepped forward and addressed the issue at hand. “I assumed you’d like to be present when we questioned the ghoul.”

                “ _If_ they can speak,” Roman added crisply, his tone strangely soft for the words he spoke.

                Still wiping down the kitchen counter, Patton didn’t lift his gaze. “I appreciate that, but… what… what could I possibly do?” He turned to regard Logan in vague confusion. “I mean… I don’t even know what to ask.”

                Logan felt something in him ache… a desire? Frustration? He wasn’t sure. He clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. “You are kinder than I. More… humane, as it were. I believe that people find you more approachable.”

                “I agree with that,” Virgil said at the table as he raised his hand to speak.

                Roman nodded. “As do I, darling… it might be best for you to talk to them. Ghoul-to-ghoul, so to speak.”

                And though Patton opened his mouth to no doubt disagree, no words came from his lips. He looked lost in his own thoughts as he stepped out of the kitchenette and toward the stairs. He was conserved and subtle in every movement… it was oddly detached, and so unlike Patton. Even so, Logan followed him down the stairs and to the basement door.

                Logan heard nothing in the basement. Was it dead? Sleeping? Was the ghoul able to change back into its original, human form? He wasn’t sure. His mind itched to know the answer… to have all of the information at his disposal. But, watching the way Patton’s hands trembled as they reached for the locks on the door, he waited.

                There were only two locks on this door… a far cry from the number of locks on Patton’s cell door, all those years ago. But, after two heavy slides of mental through the tumbler, the latch on the door _clicked_. Patton glanced at Logan, almost unsure of himself.

                “What… what do I say?” Patton asked, his hand on the doorknob and eyes wide with shaky, childish fear. Logan adjusted his glasses before responding.

                “Whatever you would like to say,” he said sternly. “Establish that it can speak, and I will interrogate from there.”

                “Way to be vague,” Virgil said from the stairway. He was sitting on the third step from the bottom, watching the interaction with a fitful, anxious expression. Logan didn’t blame him for being cautious… the ghoul could have killed him, after all.

                Patton, however, took the banter with a smile. “Easy, kiddo. Interrogating strange ghouls isn’t really a part of our normal routine.”

                “Even if it isn’t,” Roman said with a surefire expression. “I’ll be here with you.”

                Logan quirked an eyebrow at that. What use would Roman be in this situation? What would he do? Dramatize the ghoul into revealing its’ puppet master? Regardless of how senseless the statement was, Patton took Roman’s offer as a confession of love. He smiled – one of those rare, genuine smiles that Patton almost never showed to Logan – and he reached for the doorknob.

                One slow, careful tug, and the dark depths of the basement was revealed. It was quiet. Painfully so. And yet, Logan could hear the low, grating sound of breathing. The scratch of a pained, burning inhale, and the shudder of a wounded exhale. Logan stepped forward, leaning in the doorway to catch a glimpse of the creature in the unlit basement.

                “What is it?” Virgil asked, his voice pitched toward fearful curiosity. “Is it… did it change back? Is it human again?”

                Logan was quiet as he watched the creature at the bottom of the steps. The ties around their wrists and ankles had served their purpose, holding them back from hurting themselves… or escaping. But now, in the sallow light that shone down the steps, the creature merely looked defeated.

                “ _Logan_ ,” Virgil pressed insistently as he leaned against the handrail of the stairs. The wood creaked and groaned beneath his weight, but Virgil payed it no mind. He asked again, “Did it change back? Who is it?”

                “It’s a girl,” Patton said softly as he peered down the stairs, his voice a mere shadow of speech. He took a step back, almost like he wasn’t sure what to do next. Then, without warning he went upstairs, returning a few moments later with a thin blanket. Logan gave this an odd look, and Patton glared at him. “She’s naked as the day she was born, Logan. The girl deserves a little dignity.”

                Logan didn’t respond. He simply watched Patton take the stairs slowly, one step at a time as he inched closer to the former-ghoul.

                “Hey there,” Patton said softly as he approached the curled-up figure of the girl. He unfolded the blanket, holding it out as a sort of barrier between him and the girl. “I know… I know this must be scary. But we want to help you. See? I have a blanket. Are you cold?”

                Silence. The girl didn’t even twitch where she lay on the ground. She just… breathed. Slow inhales and shaking, exhausted exhales. Patton reached the bottom of the stairs quietly, waiting for any sort of confirmation from the girl.

                “Sweetie? Can you hear me?” He stooped low, trying to catch the girl’s eye. It didn’t work. Logan’s brow furrowed; what was going through the girl’s head? Was she waiting for the opportune moment to strike? No… she would have tensed her muscles. Prepared to move. She was the opposite of tense… she was slack. A dead body just before rigor mortis set in. Patton was hesitant as he draped the blanket over her bare skin. “There… is that better? Can… can you say anything?”

                Patton crouched down in front of the girl, and Logan braced himself for the girl to lunge at him with snapping teeth… but nothing happened. Patton was gentle as he reached out a hand, taking her matted, blonde hair and moving it from her face. Then, he paused. His fingers still tangled in her ratty hair and eyes still trained on her face. Logan frowned.

                “What?” Virgil asked, obviously feeling the shift of atmosphere. “What is it? Is… is she dead?”

                “No,” Logan said lowly. He could see the way the light of the hallways shone down those stairs. He saw the dull, thoughtless glint in those blue, blue eyes. Empty in every sense of the word. A dead-end. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Though it would have been better if she _were_ dead.”

                Next to him, Roman gave Logan a sidelong, judgmental look. Logan ignored it. But he couldn’t ignore the way Virgil stiffened and stood from his place on the stairs.

                “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His tone was sharp. Offended. Logan wasn’t quite sure why… did he know this girl? Did he care that much? “Isn’t it good that she’s alive? I mean… she can go back and –”

                “And what?” Logan snapped, giving Virgil a dark look. “Go back to her family as a ghoul? What would she say to them? That she can’t out in the moonlight? That she can no longer eat human food? She would be a liability for all nether-creatures living quietly in this world.”

                Virgil flinched and fumbled for a counter-argument. But he wasn’t given the chance.

                “I don’t think she could even do _that_ ,” Patton said softly as he knelt in front of the girl. “She won’t even look at me.”

Eager to get away from Virgil’s dark scowl, Logan stomped down the stairs to stand over the girl. He blinked. He knew her. Her picture had been in the paper for at least a week. Even with her hair caked with dirt and her eyes sunken with exhaustion… Logan could still see the familiar curve of her lips. The glint of her blue eyes. The blonde behind the dirt in her hair.

                “Amanda Cole,” Logan sighed through clenched teeth. He crossed his arms over his chest and started to pace while Patton cocked his head to the side and hummed thoughtfully.

                “Oh… it _is_ Amanda Cole.” Patton sounded a little light-headed, almost like he was dizzy and confused. “I… well, at least we found her.”

                Logan pivoted on his heel and threw his hands into the air. “But what does this get us? She won’t speak! This gets us no closer to what we need.”

                Patton fidgeted where he sat, reaching out to give Amanda’s shoulder a pat where she lay curled up on the ground beneath her blanket. “It’s better than having another ghoul prowling around, isn’t it?”

                “Is it?” Logan asked, noticing the way Patton winced and looked away. “We may have taken in one ghoul and stopped it from killing _countless_ other humans… but what’s to stop the others?” He started to pace again, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he ran through the possibilities. “In one single evening, a meagre thirty human beings could be slaughtered by ghouls… or the vampire pulling the strings. That doesn’t even take into consideration the number of humans that will be taken and changed into ghouls.”

                Roman appeared on the steps, his head hung low as he sat on the old, wooden stairs. “So, what are you saying?” He only lifted his head to glare in Logan’s direction. “Saving one ghoul isn’t enough?”

                Feeling a snarl rise up in his throat, Logan made a point to swallow it down before he spoke. “We haven’t _saved_ anyone. This girl is useless.”

                “Logan!” Patton cried, his expression a vision of disbelieving pain. Logan turned to give him a dark look; why was _he_ offended? Logan hadn’t called _him_ useless.

                Why was everyone so sensitive when the real situation was much more pressing?

                “Don’t look at me like that,” Logan ordered crisply as he gestured to Amanda. “She’s listless and empty. She can’t even move.”

                “You don’t know that,” said Patton quickly. “You don’t know what they did to her. They… they could have…”

                Logan didn’t let him finish. He walked up to Amanda Cole and grasped her shoulders, lifting her off the ground and giving her a violent shake. Her head lolled to the side, and she didn’t pull at the plastic ties that held her wrists together. She didn’t even try to cover her naked body. She didn’t even cry. Or scream. Or whimper. Logan gnashed his teeth and shook her again, ignoring Patton’s desperate pleas to _stop_ and _let her go_. Even Roman tried to stop him… but he didn’t listen.

                “Say something!” Logan growled as he pressed Amanda against the cold, stone wall of the basement. Her skull _cracked_ as it hit the wall, but she didn’t even flinch. Her eyes stayed staring straight ahead. Dead and cold. As if Amanda had died, all those nights ago. As if Logan… had been too late to save her. He felt his fangs sharpen in anger as he leaned in close, baring his fangs. “Give me a _name_.” Silence. She didn’t move. She remained slack under his hands. Logan tightened his grip on her shoulder, demanding, “Tell me who changed you! A _name! Give me something!”_

                “Stop it!” Patton sobbed, his fists pounding futilely against Logan’s shoulders. It was a useless attempt. He wasn’t strong enough to even faze Logan. “Please, stop! She’s just a _child_ , Logan! Don’t do this! Let me… let me take care of her! Please!”

                Grasping Amanda’s chin, Logan forced her icy blue eyes to meet his. There was nothing. Not even the glimmer of life. And yet, she continued to breathe. She blinked slowly, but never focused on Logan. There… but not. Something tight snapped in Logan’s chest, and he released her.

                She crumpled to the ground, a small puddle of gray-red blood starting to pool around her golden, matted hair. Logan glanced at the wall. He’d thrown her against the stone harder than he thought. A spatter of Amanda’s blood was starting to drip down the white wall. He turned away as Patton wrapped the blanket around Amanda once more. Coddling her. Cooing to her. Making promises that he could never, _never_ hope to keep.

                Logan stomped up the stairs, past Roman’s disapproving scowl. Past Virgil’s defiant glare. Up the stairs and to the living room where he could pace in peace. Where he could mull… whatever information he had. But there was nothing new.

                He had the same information he’d had before the whole mess began. He was trapped in a whirlpool of endless conundrums… and Amanda Cole had been nothing more than a waste of time.

                Infuriated by this development, Logan gripped the base of the dining room table and threw it across the room. The wood splintered as it hit the wall, and the table cracked in half, losing three legs as it clattered to the floor. It felt good… but not good enough. He took the coffee carafe next, throwing that against the wall and watching – in slight satisfaction – as it shattered on impact. The glass rang as it skittered to the floor, a chorus of broken pieces… but it didn’t make him feel any better. A vase was next. Then two of their coffee mugs. He kicked the sofa, watching it bounce into the air and crack the wood of the coffee table when it toppled onto it.

                “Jesus _Christ_ ,” Virgil’s voice sounded oddly quiet from the stairwell. Logan turned to glare at him, his eyes burning with anger and sharp teeth still long and dangerous. Virgil’s heart pounded, but he didn’t look truly afraid. He looked… almost disappointed. “You… you can’t get answers, so… you throw a temper-tantrum?”

                Logan grit his teeth and hissed, “ _What?”_

                “She’s… she’s just a kid. She’s just like me. And… what you did to her? That wasn’t okay.” Virgil leaned against the banister of the stairs, eyeing the destruction of the living room. “And this? This is… sad.” He lifted his eyes to catch Logan’s. Gray meeting dark blue in a sweep of swelling, confusing emotions that Logan didn’t care to name. Sadness? Rage? Fear? Too primal. Too _human_. And so very _Virgil_. “I thought… you were more put-together than this.”

                Abusing his greater strength and speed, Logan crossed the room and picked up Virgil by the collar of his hoodie, pushing him up against the far wall. Virgil flinched, but didn’t say anything. He simply looked down his nose at Logan with those tired, knowing eyes. Logan glared nonetheless.

                “She could have _killed_ you,” Logan hissed, his tone much more animal than human at this point. Virgil didn’t even blink. He simply stared at Logan, his feet dangling in thin air as he was suspended by Logan’s hands. Pinned… but unafraid. For some reason, _that_ irritated Logan the most. “And now you want me to show her mercy? You are truly… you’re…” Logan pressed his lips together, somehow at a loss for words.

                “She didn’t know what she was doing.” Virgil was oddly mature about the situation, and unmoved by Logan’s words. “And lots of things can kill me. Hell, _you_ can kill me…” his hands reached up, resting atop Logan’s where they gripped the collar of his hoodie and held him to the wall. “But I don’t see anyone throwing _you_ against a wall.”

                For a moment, Logan loosened his grip, feeling the way Virgil’s hands tightened around his. He didn’t want to fall. Logan was gentle as he placed Virgil back on the floor, waiting until Virgil found his footing before releasing his hoodie.

                “She could have had _answers_ ,” Logan growled.

                “Well, she didn’t.” Virgil shook his head with a frown. “So… it’s back to square one.”

                Logan turned away from Virgil’s heavy stare, choosing to resume his old, agitated pace around the destroyed living room. Patton would be upset with the mess, surely. Roman would attempt to scold him for Patton, naturally. And yet… Logan didn’t care. He was irritated. This creature… this girl… she was meant to be the key. The solution. A fine resolution to a dull, human-esque horror story.

                Yet, she was nothing more than an empty shell. A placebo for the vital piece of information they sorely lacked. Back to square one? No… they were dodged by the offender. Surely that was the only reason Logan had failed. The only reason Logan couldn’t have saved her... or the others.

                “Dude, you’re gonna burn a hole in the floor like that,” said Virgil from where he stood against the wall. Logan gave him a look. Now he was being shamed for his _pacing_? Nothing was good enough for this human. Virgil pushed his hands into the big pocket on his hoodie, sitting down in one of the dining room chairs. “Seriously… all this because she won’t talk to you?”

                “No,” Logan snapped sharply. He fumbled for words for a moment, not quite sure what he even wanted to say. “It’s… a waste.”

                Virgil crossed his legs and gave Logan a long, considering look. “What? A waste of time?”

                Logan stopped pacing long enough to meet Virgil’s eyes; there was judgement, there. The soft, faint glow of careful curiosity… and disappointment. He’d expected more from Logan. More emotion? More empathy? Logan didn’t like to display those feelings. And yet… Logan burned with wordless guilt.

                How many people – how many _children_ – were going to be taken away and ruined like this? How many would have their minds emptied and souls hollow by the end of it? How many would Logan watch, in mortified shame, as the light of life flickered and left their eyes?

                “A waste of life,” Logan finally sighed as he removed his glasses and wiped the lenses on the corner of his shirt. Virgil was quiet, mulling that statement as Logan went about fixing the living room. “She could have lived a long life. As long as human lives are, anyhow.” He set the sofa back into place, putting the cushions back in their spots as Virgil watched him. “If we’d noticed her, all those nights ago… if I’d watched her go down the street. Perhaps I…” Logan shuffled the pieces of the table together in a pile, his words trailing off miserably.

                “You _do_ have a heart,” Virgil said to himself softly. Logan stood up straight and gave Virgil a considering look over his shoulder.

                “Do I?” Logan asked, holding a hand to his breast; the heart that resided beneath flesh and bone was still. No pulse, no rush of blood. Dead as could be. Even so, Virgil smiled a little and nodded. Logan blinked slowly. “I’ve often been told otherwise.”

+++++

_Illinois – 1892_

_Logan watched Patton from the from side of the room. He’d been laying there on his side for_ hours _, not doing his job. Why? Because he missed the ghoul that haunted their former abode? Because Logan refused to apologize for moving them? Patton was a strange man… then again, Logan always had trouble reading emotions. They were too volatile in human beings, rooted in every action and word. Couldn’t they just… think? And use rational thought? No… that wasn’t Patton’s way. He thought with his heart._

_Even if it didn’t beat anymore._

_“Do you plan to ignore our clients, as well?” Logan asked from the desk against the wall. Three appointments. Funeral arrangements would need to be made. It was nearly noon… Logan_ should _have gone to bed hours ago. And yet, there he stood, doing Patton’s job of manning the front door and adjusting their schedules. He turned to regard the aforementioned man, glaring at the way Patton didn’t move from his place on the sofa. “This is childish.”_

_“Can’t you let me… grieve?” Patton asked, his voice choked and heavy with tears. He spoke into the back of the sofa, making his words a little muffled. Logan arched an eyebrow._

_“Grieve what? Roman was already dead when you met him.” Logan closed their appointment book and adjusted his tie. “Living with an unbound spirit is a recipe for trouble. I did what was best for our –”_

_“Stop it.” Patton interrupted as he curled in on himself a little tighter._

_Logan ignored the order and went on, “I did what was best for our continued acclimation to human standards. A ‘haunted house,’ so to speak, draws attention,” Logan said as he rounded the living room and drew the curtains closed. Even on a cloudy day, the light was too bright. He turned to frown at Patton once more. “We didn’t need anyone else nosing their way into our business.”_

_“You mean_ your _business,” Patton grumbled hotly into the sofa._

_Logan held his ground and pursed his lips. “I beg your pardon?”_

_“_ Your _business. Not ours.” Patton sat up a bit, his grey shirt wrinkled and his bowtie crooked. His hair was a mess as well… perhaps Logan could drag a comb through it before a client came knocking. Patton cut off those thoughts when he looked at him, his eyes watery and lower lip trembling. “You only want what’s best for you. You and your_ fucking _reputation.”_

_Logan blinked. It was rare for Patton to curse. He was genuinely upset. It didn’t make sense why… they would have had to move eventually. Due to their lack of aging, they would need to relocate to avoid suspicion from their neighbors. Patton_ knew _that. So why was he taking it as a personal attack?_

_Patton gritted his teeth and rubbed at his eyes harshly. “And you… you just…! You didn’t let me say goodbye. You locked him away, and I…” Logan rolled his eyes and sighed when Patton started to cry again. Such drama. Drama he didn’t need. Patton continued to sob as he spoke, barely managing to cough out the words, “You didn’t… didn’t even l-let me say g-goodbye!”_

_“Ah… you’ve always been a bleeding heart,” A new voice rang through the room, and Logan jumped at the unwelcome sound. “Haven’t you, my angel?”_

_He would’ve_ heard _someone else enter the house. Even if they weren’t human, their movements would give them away. This person… this_ thing _in their home… whatever it was, Logan needed to be rid of it. Patton, however, looked overjoyed to hear a new voice._

_“Roman?” He asked, his voice hopeful and bright despite the tears. Logan gave him baffled look. It couldn’t have been Roman. He’d sealed the Prince Family Crypt before they packed up Patton and left Michigan. They’d left the nether-nuisance behind. Even so, Patton smiled shakily and stood from the sofa, looking around the room expectantly. “Roman, is that you?”_

_“Of course it is, beloved,” Roman said, his voice closer than before. Logan tensed as he spun to see Roman leaning against the wall in all his ghostly glory. His eyes still looked tired. His skin was still pale and deathly. Even so, with this thin, billowing white shirt tucked into long, black pants… he was a vision of aristocratic repose. Calm and troubled all at once. Logan glared at him, and Roman merely smiled smugly. “Thought you made the best of me, did you?”_

_“R-Roman!” Patton laughed breathlessly, running to him without question. Roman took him into his arms and they embraced so tightly, Logan was sure Patton would have crushed Roman’s spine. They held on for a bit, Patton desperately whispering Roman’s name over and over, as if he had to convince himself that Roman was really there, in his arms. He leaned back to brush his fingers over Roman’s face, memorizing the details while Logan slunk back to the far side of the room. “You… you’re_ here _. You’re here and… how? How did you…”_

_Roman smiled and glanced at Logan. “To paraphrase the Bard: With love’s light wings, I came back to you… for salt-lines cannot hold love out.”_

_Logan grimaced; was this going to be a continuing issue? What would he do if rumors spread? Patton, a man, was in love with Roman, another man… it was illegal. Punishable by law. If anyone saw them together… if anyone heard the way Roman_ spoke _to Patton…_

_“Thinking of a new way to banish me?” Roman asked, his tone dripping with irritation._

_Logan lifted his thoughtful gaze from the floor, meeting Roman with steely detachment. “Perhaps. It would be best if –”_

_“He… he just came back to me,” Patton said in breathless disbelief as he held himself to Roman a little closer. “He’s… all that I want. He’s the only person that will make me happy.” He paused, his eyes a little dark as he gave Logan a long look. “Are you… are you really so heartless you won’t let him stay?”_

_Taking a moment to think, Logan thinned his lips. “Heartless?” He repeated, a little befuddled. He’d never been called heartless before. He_ had _a heart. But this was about emotions. Was Patton calling him emotionless? Probably. He didn’t mind it, though. “This has nothing to do with me… it has to do with_ him _.”_

_Roman made a strange face when Logan gestured to him, and without warning, he flickered out of existence. Patton proceeded to fall into the wall, barely managing to catch himself as Roman appeared directly in front of Logan. Logan raised his chin defiantly. This thing was trying to frighten him… it wasn’t going to work._

_“Do what you will,_ Logan _,” Roman spat crossly before he sauntered back to Patton, his footsteps hardly making a sound on the polished floors. He took Patton into his arms again, giving Logan a dark, lingering look. “I’m not leaving unless Patton asks me to.”_

_“I see,” Logan said lowly as he took off his glasses and wiped the lenses tiredly. “So you intend to follow Patton wherever he goes.”_

_Roman didn’t hesitate. “If he’ll have me, I’ll go wherever he asks.”_

_“Even if your… relationship… is discovered?” Logan asked, his tone calm and even._

_“Yes,” said Roman readily. Patton looked up at him with lovestruck wonder._

_Logan ignored that and asked, “Even if that means Patton’s true identity will be revealed?”_

_“Yes,” Roman repeated. “I’ve seen his true form… and I’m not afraid of it.”_

_That was a bold-faced lie. Logan knew it. He narrowed his eyes and asked one final question, “You say you wouldn’t mind… but what of the rest of society? What if Patton is unmasked to all humankind because of you? Would you really not care?”_

_For the first time, Roman looked torn. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. His body seemed to go a bit hazy, like he couldn’t focus on himself. Patton’s hands gripped his biceps, looking up at Roman desperately as the man tried to decide on his answer._

_His momentary thought was promising… he was actually thinking of the consequences. Love does not conquer all, no matter what the poets say. It was time that the youth understood that. And now, with Roman’s apprehension, Logan realized that the man truly_ cared _for Patton. Logan adjusted his glasses before he clasped his hands behind his back and sighed._

_“Clearly,” Logan said in a leveled tone as Patton and Roman gave him a strange look. “You two are… not nearly as ‘heartless’ as I.” He gave Patton a sharp look, watching the way Patton shied away and hid his face against Roman’s shoulder. Logan blinked and focused on Roman’s dark eyes. “It would seem you’ll be staying with us for the foreseeable future, Mr. Prince.”_

_“Just… Roman,” said Roman quietly, but with more force than was necessary. Logan saw fire in his eyes when he repeated, “Just Roman, if you would.”_

+++++

                Logan sat in his armchair with the paper open in his lap, but he didn’t lift it to read. He was watching Patton’s feeble attempts to feed Amanda Cole. She’d been dressed in one of Patton’s old shirts, which was a veritable cocktail dress on her smaller frame, and a pair of old trousers. She was drowning in the clothing, but never moved to adjust it. She simply sat at one of the dining room chairs, staring straight ahead as Patton walked from the kitchenette placed a plate on his lap. Logan’s eye twitched; he’d have to buy a new table. But that was a separate matter.

                He watched Patton cut into a piece of raw meat – cow liver, it would seem – and put a piece of it on a fork. He held his hand under the cutlery, catching the blood that dripped down from the flesh, before extending it in Amanda’s direction.

                “Here,” he said with a shaky smile. “It’s good, I promise. You can’t eat normal food anymore… it won’t agree with your stomach.”

                Amanda didn’t move. From where Logan sat, he couldn’t see her face, but when Patton’s expression drooped, he surmised that Amanda hadn’t even looked at the food. The front door creaked open, then slammed shut. Logan glanced at the stairs, watching Virgil trudge his way up to the second floor. When he reached the top, however, he paused. He gave Amanda Cole a strange look, then saw the plate in Patton’s lap, and made a strange, discomforted face. The sight was almost amusing.

                “Hey, uh…” Virgil shrugged off his backpack and dropped it onto the floor where the table used to reside. He gave Logan a vague wave. “Still no table?”

                “I haven’t searched for one, yet.” Logan folded the paper and set it aside as Patton ate the liver that was on the fork. He cut another piece, trying to feed Amanda again, but she didn’t move. Logan sighed. “We’ve been distracted by our… unexpected guest.”

                “Okay,” Virgil nodded slowly, leaning forward to look at the plate in Patton’s lap. “Is… is that raw meat?”

                “Liver,” Patton said absently as he pressed the fork to Amanda’s lips. Her jaw didn’t budge. He sighed and ate the meat instead. While he chewed, Virgil made an audible gagging sound as he turned away and covered his mouth. Patton glanced over his shoulder at Virgil while his cheeks flushed. “I’m… sorry, kiddo. I didn’t think…” he swallowed and stood from his chair. “Maybe I should… take this to my room…”

                “No, no! I’m just… it’s just…” Virgil waved at the raw meat, awkwardly trying to wave away his uneasiness. “I’m not used to seeing something each raw… meat…”

                Logan raised his eyebrows at that. “It shouldn’t surprise you.”

                “It doesn’t,” Virgil said quickly as he walked around Amanda Cole, keeping an eye on her as he went. He came to sit on the arm of Logan’s chair, and Logan was highly aware of how Virgil leaned against his arm while he spoke. “It’s just weird to see.”

                Patton set his plate on the kitchen counter, fidgeting with his fork as he looked down at his food. “I don’t have to eat that much, and… when I do, I can stay in my room.”

                Sighing heavily, Roman appeared next to Patton with an irritated expression. “Your meal isn’t the issue, darling. The real problem is this girl.” He waved to Amanda tiredly. “Her soul is hanging on by a thread… and even then, whatever was left of her personality has been gone for some time.” He made a point of walking over to Amanda and waving a hand in front of her face. She didn’t react, of course, but Logan was irritated by the lack of response, nonetheless. “The only way she would move is if she were in her ghoul form… they move on instinct alone. But like this… she’s nothing but a pretty doll.”

                Patton turned on his heel, his eyes wide and hurt when he looked at Roman. Even Virgil stiffened a bit where he sat next to Logan. Roman didn’t mind these reactions, choosing to cross his arms over his chest as he sighed dramatically.

                “I’m starting to think you were right, Logan.”

                “Of course I was,” Logan said with a nod.

                Roman rolled his eyes before he gestured to Amanda. “Amanda Cole is gone… her soul is practically dead.”

                In the kitchen, Patton wrung his hands in the air, trying to get rid of nervous energy while he said, “So… what can we do? She can’t go home. We can just… send her away.”

                A heavy silence settled over the room. They all knew what needed to be done, but no one wanted to admit it. Even Logan, in all of his rational thought, knew that the subject of cold-blooded murder was a dark one… even if the crime was done in mercy.

                When someone spoke, it was Virgil. His voice quiet and words weighty as he whispered, “She lived through all of this… managed to survive this whole time… and now she just…”

                Logan stood from his chair and crossed the room in four long, languid steps. He stood behind Amanda’s chair. He was gentle as he cradled the base of her skull in his hands, bracing each side of her head. Roman went to hold Patton, burying the smaller man’s face in his shoulder so he wouldn’t have to see. Logan paused, turning back to find Virgil with his head bowed and eyes shut tight.

                Logan blinked slowly, admiring the dark, beautiful tragedy that lay in his well and able hands. A life just freed… and a soul trapped. Asymmetrical and disformed… but still lovely. At any glance, Amanda was a normal girl. Her hair had been washed and brushed straight. Her cheeks were still rosy. Her lips were still that soft, appealing cupids-bow, and still the perfect shade of pink. Logan sighed and braced his hands once more.

                “The first time I… ‘ _freed’_ a ghoul from its fate, I was told: Pity not the monster in your hands…” Logan said softly, his words falling flat in the room as he whispered, “Pity the man she hunts.” Logan wrenched his arms to the side, taking Amanda Cole’s neck with them.

                One, swift _crack_ … one simple jerk to the side… and Amanda Cole was finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mystery is still fresh...   
> losses are new...   
> Who is behind this? Who knows?  
> Not you.
> 
> See you next chapter.


	8. Chapter 7

                Logan enjoyed night drives. Mostly the quiet. The gentle hum of the engine. The glitter of fireflies shimmering in the grasses along the backroads of town. The subtle, gentle glow of houselights on the horizon. It gave Logan the illusion of being separated from the human world, almost like he was merely a spirit passing through on his way to the nether world, where he belonged.

                With Virgil in the passenger seat, he drove until the lights became a soft, glowing suggestion on the horizon and the trees lining the road became tall, black walls that blotted out any chance of life. Virgil gazed out the window at those woods, as if he could see something that Logan couldn’t. Like he _knew_ what was beyond those trees… and didn’t dare say the knowledge out loud.

                It was quiet. Logan normally enjoyed that… but Virgil’s stiff silence was beginning to weigh on him. Heavy like the stone door to the Prince family mausoleum. Guilty like the pain in Patton’s face when Logan turned him away. Heart-wrenching like the cry on his mother’s lips, just before Logan ended her life.

                The thoughts festered, and Logan grew irritated; how could silence be so damning? How could Virgil make him _feel_ so much, without even uttering a single word? Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, Logan trained his eyes on the road and didn’t allow his gaze to stray. If Virgil had something to say, he could say it. Out loud.

                “Where are we going?” Virgil asked in a low, tired whisper. It didn’t sound like a question, though. It was more of a commend. A demand for information. Logan tapped his foot on the brake.

                “Somewhere far, but not far enough.” Logan let the car slow to a crawl as he eyed the tall grasses on the edge of the woods. He rolled down his window and listened to the sounds of the forest. It was bursting with life. Insects singing and small animals skittering through the underbrush… the ghouls hadn’t made it this far yet. Good. He parked the car and turned off the headlights. “This should be far enough.”

                Virgil didn’t say anything, but he finally turned to give Logan a considering look. Logan met his gaze, feeling a prickle of distrust flicker in Virgil’s gray eyes. Did he feel unsafe? Did he have something to say? Logan wasn’t given any information as Virgil unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

                Logan followed suit, but went to open the trunk; inside, Amanda’s body was curled up and wrapped in a soft, linen sheet. Patton’s clothes would have left evidence of where she’d been. They couldn’t have that. Instead, they’d taken her body and swaddled her in an unused, clean sheet. At first glance, she almost looked like she was sleeping. Adjusting the sheet made the odd angle of her neck visible and clear. Logan was careful when he looped an arm under her legs and shoulders, delicately lifting her out of the car.

                Virgil leaned against the side of the car, watching with a dark expression as Logan walked into the soft, dewy grasses beside the road. Slowly, carefully, he placed her on the ground. He adjusted her head carefully, brushing strands of golden hair from her lips. They’d bathed her. Cleaned her. Patton had even rubbed sweet smelling soaps into her hair before Logan had taken her away. It was the least they could do.

                Now, as Logan tightly tucked the sheet around her, he could only pity Amanda Cole. She’d had her whole life ahead of her. However short a human life could be, it was precious to them. Once it was gone… it was gone. They couldn’t regain their life after death, no matter how much humans wished they could. Amanda Cole had her life ripped from her grasp, and Logan had handed her the mercy of her own freedom.

If Logan was poetic, he might say it there was a cruel beauty in how peaceful she looked in death. He’d positioned her hands to cross over her stomach, like a body prepared for burial. Her hair fanned out in the grass around her head, an angelic rendition of a mortal halo. Eyes closed… lips slightly parted around a breath she would never take. She was lovely.

                It was a shame to leave her there, where she would be exposed to the elements.

                “Why?” Virgil whispered carefully as he stood against the car, his arms crossed in slight disapproval. “You killed her… _you_ killed her… why are you doing this? Why are you…” he gestured to Amanda’s lifeless body, wordlessly trying to convey his confusion.

                Logan looked back down, adjusting the sheet against her collarbone to cover up the pale expanse of her slowly bruising neck. “She deserves no less… her being a ghoul was not her fault.”

                Virgil fidgeted unhappily. “Why couldn’t we just… leave her outside her family’s house?”

                “Someone would’ve seen us unloading the body,” Logan said knowingly as he tucked a piece of blonde hair behind Amanda’s ear. He stood and admired his work. “This way, no one has seen us… and someone will find her within the next few days. It’ll be easy to spot her… wrapped in white.”

                There was a pause, and Logan lifted his eyes to meet Virgil’s watchful, burning eyes. “So… you’re doing all this… leaving the body out in the open… coming out all this way… just so they can find her?”

                Logan adjusted his glasses and gave a slow nod. “Her parents would appreciate the closure, I should think.”

                “What about the other one?” Virgil asked quickly, his arms tightening around himself as he waited for an answer. Logan’s brow furrowed, and Virgil asked again. “What about the other ghoul? The one that Patton… _ate_.” He said the word like it was poison, but Logan didn’t flinch away. He held Virgil’s’ stare as the younger man tried to collect himself. “What about their parents? Don’t they deserve closure?”

                Hesitating, Logan tried to think of the least volatile way to end this altercation; they couldn’t afford making a scene or being too loud. The trees wouldn’t absorb all the sound… someone in the nearer houses might hear them.

                “We had no way of knowing who they were,” Logan said evenly. “Some ghouls are incapable of changing back into their human forms. It was lucky that Amanda managed to do even that much.”

                Virgil sputtered. “B-but… Patton –”

                “Was a special case, and nothing more.” That wasn’t entirely true; Patton was a _miracle_. His transformation, his coherency after changing back… it as all by chance. He was a near-perfect success. It was a good thing Logan managed to kill Emily before she figured out how to perfect the process.

                Pushing his hands into the pockets of his trousers, Logan stepped up and out of the grassy ditch where Amanda lay, coddled in pure-white linen and waiting to be found. He stood next to Virgil, looking down at the spray of her loose, blonde hair and the cross of her delicate, pale hands.

                “It’s sad,” Virgil muttered. Logan gave him a sidelong glance, and Virgil repeated, “It’s sad… seeing her like this.”

                “Yes,” Logan agreed.

                Virgil paused, not lifting his eyes from Amanda’s frame as he asked, “Did you think it hurt?”

                Logan looked at him strangely. “Pardon?”

                “When you… snapped her neck,” Virgil said, swallowing thickly. “Do you think it… did it hurt her? Did she feel it?”

                Logan hesitated; there was no guarantee that Amanda died _instantly_. But it would have been quick, at the very least. Should he lie? Spare Virgil’s feelings? Or should he tell the brutal truth?

                “It was quick,” Logan said eventually as he turned away from Virgil’s distraught, pained expression. “It should have been relatively painless.” Logan paused, then added, “It wasn’t my goal to make her suffer.”

                They stood in silence for a moment, looking down at Amanda with a strange sort of peace lingering over them. Virgil’s normal restless fidgeting had calmed, and he stood, oddly tranquil as he frowned at the gravel road under their feet. Logan wanted to know what he was thinking. What he was feeling. Was it something human? Or an emotion that they shared? Would Virgil sympathize with the strange, discomforting heaviness in Logan’s stomach? Would he know what it meant? Logan didn’t think to ask.

                He simply watched as Virgil stepped away from the car and stepped down into the soft, freshly-mowed grass of the ditch. There, he stumbled about in the dark, squinting down at his feet before plucking several weeds from the dirt. Logan narrowed his eyes; it was thistle. He was plucking bundles of thistle.

                The purple flowers were small pops of colors against the grass, and Logan watched with quiet admiration as Virgil gathered a handful of them, bunched them together, and brought them to Amanda’s body. Once there, he lifted her joined hands and tucked the thistle beneath them. In the sallow light of the moon, the faded, violet bouquet and white fabric almost made Amanda a blushing bride. Virgil lingered there for a moment, his hand just barely touching her skin, before he stood and joined Logan by the car once more.

                The thistle had cut Virgil’s hands. Logan could smell the blood. But he didn’t say anything. Virgil didn’t even complain. They simply looked at their cooperative work. Amanda would be found within twenty-four hours. She would be mourned and placed to rest. It was a small consolation prize in the face of the epidemic still spreading through town.

                Something had to be done… Logan just wasn’t sure what he could do.

                Before Logan could suggest they leave, he felt Virgil’s hand wrap around his own. He glanced at Virgil in the corner of his eye, and caught the subtle, watery shine of tears in those familiar gray eyes. Logan looked away. They didn’t speak. Logan intertwined their fingers, and Virgil squeezed his hand as tight as he could. A comforting mechanism? Probably.

                “We did… everything we possibly could have, Virgil,” Logan said softly, feeling a hint of regret taint his words with bitterness when he spoke. Virgil didn’t say anything, but took a soft, shuddering breath as he furiously scrubbed his face with the sleeve of his jacket. Logan simply stared forward, into the trees, respectfully ignoring the tears. “There’s nothing we could have done to save her from…” he paused. From what? Being found out as a ghoul? From killing countless others? Logan blinked slowly and finally whispered, “From herself.”

                “Logan,” Virgil said with a choked-up, wobbly voice. Logan turned to look at him, meeting that steely gaze in earnest.

                “Yes, Virgil.”

                Virgil blinked slowly, and this time, when new tears fell, he didn’t wipe them away. He simply held Logan’s hand, gripping it tight enough that his knuckles turned white and Logan nearly felt uncomfortable. His words were soft but carried a weight to them that settled like a burden on Logan’s shoulders… and yet, Logan didn’t mind.

                “Logan… let’s go home.”

+++++

_Illinois – 1919_

_Logan stood at the front window, watching as a riot started in the street. Humans were simple, animalistic creatures. He watched passively as they screamed about race and politics. He took a slow sip from his mug as the police were involved, prying a wild white man off an innocent black man._

_Women cried on the sidewalks, futilely trying to defend their husbands as they were taken away in handcuffs. Some people held signs. Others held ropes tied into the shape of a noose. Logan took another drink of blood, swallowing slowly as a black child, hardly old enough to be a man, was slammed face-first against the hood of a police car._

_“Mark my words,” Logan announced to the room. “This summer will be tainted in blood.”_

_On the sofa, Patton wrung his hands, trying to ignore the cries outside the glass. “It’s wrong… this is_ wrong _. Why are people… so cruel?”_

_“I couldn’t tell you, beloved,” Roman said from his place next to him. His arm was around Patton’s shoulder, and he struggled to console Patton as the rioting continued._

_Logan took a deep breath, soothing his frayed, infuriated nerves as a man was shoved into a police car for his own protection. Humans were cruel… cruel to anything that didn’t look exactly like them. Even their fellow man were at risk of being punished. A toe out of the line… a pigment out of place… and they thought death was the answer?_

_For the first time, Logan considered Emily’s plan with a hint of understanding. Maybe humans_ were _beyond redemption. Perhaps it would be best to take over the living world. If the human race were over run by nether creatures, maybe things would be better… for all of them._

_Or… did this make him just as cruel as the white men screaming at the police officer? Confinement… concealment… constructive destruction of the human world. What would that gain him? Nothing. There would be in-fighting between nether creatures in the end. The violence would simply shift to other creatures. Vampires against necromancers… alchemists against the wiccans._

_No one would win that fight._

_That meant Logan would have to continue fitting in with humans. He had to blend. Become invisible. That meant he couldn’t run for public office and punish the racists in the streets… he would attract too much attention. People would watch him. Notice his odd habits. He could only sit on the sidelines, waiting for an opportunity to step-in… but quietly._

_So, without anything else he could do, Logan memorized the faces of the white men on the street. He listened carefully for names. He watched as they headed off toward their homes. He took a long, considering drink of blood._

_How strange would it be for those men to turn up dead in the morning?_

_Logan smiled… and took another drink. He’d be glad for something fresh that evening, even if it meant going out of his way to kill. Though, this thought made him curious… was killing those men making him a hero? Or did it make him another faceless villain?_

_Setting his cup on the coffee table, Logan drew the curtains over the window and loosened his tie. “I’m going to sleep. Wake me an hour before nightfall.”_

_Patton watched him cross the drawing room quietly, his gaze lingering heavy on Logan’s shoulders. “You’re going out again, tonight.”_

_It wasn’t a question, but Logan answered anyway, slipping his necktie out from under his collar. “Yes. I have something to fix.”_

_A pause. Logan glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the way Patton worked his jaw wordlessly. “I… I know what you’re doing.”_

_Logan quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”_

_“You… smell like blood when you come back in the morning. Blood and…” Patton stopped, closed his eyes, and turned his face into Roman’s shoulder, hiding the expression on his face._

_Draping his tie over his arm, Logan let out a long, tired sigh. “What I am doing at night is none of your concern.”_

_“I think it_ is _our concern if you’re going around murdering innocent people,” Roman snapped crossly. Logan glared at him. It was times like these that he regretted letting the wraith follow them wherever they went. Maybe he_ should _seal him in a tomb… just to be safe. Roman narrowed his eyes at Logan, suspicion lingering in those blue, blue eyes. “Are you?”_

_“Am I what?” Logan asked, his chin held high._

_“Killing people, Logan!” Patton cried, his voice much too loud for Logan’s liking. His eyes were wide and watery, so terrified of what Logan had been doing in the dark of night. Logan blinked slowly, unimpressed by the outburst, but Patton didn’t stop there. “You should have enough to drink from the people we hold funerals for! You don’t… you shouldn’t… killing someone is wrong!”_

_Logan hesitated. “Is it? Is it wrong to kill a few hot-headed Caucasians in order to save_ countless _black men?”_

_Patton didn’t respond. He sat back, his eyes wide with vague, alarmed awe. Roman, on the other hand, looked stony and unmoved._

_“You think killing them will solve this?”_

_Logan didn’t flinch at his tone, though he did frown. “What else would you have me do?”_

_“Killing a few of them won’t make you a hero, Logan,” said Roman lowly, his voice low and serious. “There will always be more. It will, however, make you a criminal if you’re caught.”_

_“I don’t need to be a hero. I just want to put an end to some of this madness.” With that, Logan turned to leave the room. He paused to give Roman a look over his shoulder, catching that cold stare and holding it as he said, “And I won’t be caught. I never am.”_

+++++

                Roman watched the window carefully, eyeing the way a sliver of moonlight traveled across the floor in line with the hours. Patton was asleep under his arm, naked and complacent as he wrapped himself around Roman. Roman had tried to relax him after Logan had left with Virgil in tow. Sex, cuddling, sweet-nothings whispered in his ear… all of them made Patton happy, but Roman knew that it wasn’t enough. He didn’t moan enough… didn’t smile enough… he didn’t feel at peace. His brow still had those worry lines, no matter how many times Roman brushed his thumbs between Patton’s eyebrows to wipe the wrinkles away.

                Fitful and tired, Patton had fallen into one of those uneasy slumbers that Roman wished he could join him in. Alas, Roman couldn’t sleep anymore. He just… disappeared. Back to the mausoleum, he supposed… and when he ‘woke,’ he wouldn’t feel any better. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t drink. Nothing made him feel better… except Patton’s presence.

                Two a.m. slipped past, and the moonlight drew close to the bed. He slipped out of corporeality, drifting out of Patton’s arms and to the window where he adjusted the curtain and shielded Patton from the light. From this angle, he could see the smooth, sweeping curve of Patton’s spine. He leaned his head against the window pane, smiling at the way Patton mumbled confusedly in his sleep, reaching blindly for the place where Roman previously laid. Patton rolled over, spreading himself out across the sheets, and Roman sighed appreciatively at the view. Beautiful in every way.

                Even with the scars that littered his body.

                That thought put a bitter taste on Roman’s tongue, and he walked back to the bed, sitting himself on the edge as he traced a finger down Patton’s bare chest. A burn here, a stab-wound there… Emily had certainly done _something_ to him. Patton rarely spoke of it. But he had nightmares. Oh, yes… nightmares that left him crying and gasping for breath. Nightmares that scared Roman more than Patton’s ghoul form. Nightmares that left both clinging to one another, quiet and anxious until the sun crept over the horizon.

                Roman traced the line of Patton’s jaw, smiling at the way Patton sighed and relaxed in his sleep. Both of them were a mess. A co-dependent, desperate mess. Anxious for love… frantic for validation. Eager to impress. They worked well together… and yet, Roman worried if that was enough for Patton.

                Was ‘good’ enough? Was Virgil better? A living man could do more for Patton. He would be warm and soft beneath Patton’s hands. He would be able to take Patton, press him into the mattresses and make him _his_. Roman couldn’t. Roman could only receive. He had nothing to give.

                Roman tapped his index finger against Patton’s soft, plump lower lip. Warm and delicate, much like the man himself. Roman leaned forward to kiss those lips as if it was the last time he’d be able to do so. Who knew what would happen next? Patton might wake up the next morning and decide Roman wasn’t fulfilling his needs. He could leave Roman all alone, and Roman would have to accept it.

                That didn’t make the thought sting any less.

                Grimacing, Roman bowed his head and pressed his ear to Patton’s chest, feeling every slow, careful inhale and each long exhale. The even drum of Patton’s heartbeat, slow and even. He kissed the place over Patton’s heart, hoping that the heart was still his when Patton woke up in the morning. He shimmied down on the bed and rested his cheek against Patton’s stomach, hearing the familiar gurgle of digestion. Such a _living_ sound.

                He smiled when Patton wriggled under him, trying to roll onto his side and get comfortable. Roman sat up and let him roll, choosing to instead run his fingertips over the arc of Patton’s hip. Soft, soft skin… a scar from Logan’s fingernails digging into skin. The mark of a red-hot fire poker on Patton’s right thigh… a gift from Emily, many years ago.

                He continued to trace these scars as the hours ticked by. After all the years he’d been with Patton, none of these scars were new. He’d memorized them all. He could trace each one with his eyes closed. And yet, he sat in awe of Patton’s naked, perfect body. Scars and all. Stretchmarks on his thighs from his growth spurt as a child. Long, jagged teeth marks where Emily had sunken her teeth into his right arm. A few small, puckered gunshot wounds on his left thigh from when Patton had tried to shoot himself… and lost his nerve half-way through the shot.

                Each scar had a story… and Roman knew all of them. Not always in great detail. But a vague outline was enough. Some happened before they’d met… too many of them happened after. Roman’s fingers trailed over Patton’s hairline as he kissed Patton’s freckles. Patton sighed contentedly in his sleep, and Roman kissed him again, biting down ever so softly on Patton’s lower lip. Patton kissed back lazily in his sleep, only partially aware of Roman’s presence. Roman chuckled at the attempts at reciprocation.

                The front door creaked open, and Roman sat up a bit. Logan and Virgil were back. For a moment, Roman debated greeting them, but decided against it. He’d rather stay with Patton while he could. Who knew what morning would bring? Nothing good, that was certain.

                He was happy to keep himself tangled in Patton’s arms and legs until the sun rose… if not for Logan knocking on the bedroom door. Rolling his eyes, Roman flickered into and out of corporeality, appearing on the other side of the door and next to Logan with an unimpressed look on his face.

                “ _What_ could you possibly want?”

                “Jesus!” Virgil shouted as he threw his head back and turned away from Roman. “You are _naked. Why?_ Why are you naked?”

                Roman put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. “I don’t like making love with my clothing _on,_ so I took it off.”

                Logan huffed. “Roman –”

                Virgil’s hands were covering his face as he sputtered, “Wha… wha… _how_ does a ghost have... like, how would that even…? Would Patton… _how_?”

                Roman blinked slowly, watching the wheels of thought turn in Virgil’s tiny head. “After many years, it takes little concentration to remain corporeal.”

                Logan looked up at the ceiling, working his jaw as he visibly fought the urge to snap at Roman. “Put your clothes on, Roman. We need to talk.”

                With a snap of his fingers, Roman was back in his normal black trousers and loose white shirt. He was hoping to avoid talking to them altogether... normally, if Roman walked into the room without clothes, Logan simply left him and Patton alone. This was a new phenomenon. One that Roman didn’t like. He adjusted his open collar tiredly, watching the way Logan paced the floor.

                “What is it? I thought you were just going to drop her body somewhere…”

                “We did, but that’s not the issue at hand.” Logan had his hands clasped behind his back. That meant he was serious… or was it agitated? Roman couldn’t remember. He _did_ know that Logan was a major pain in the ass. That was evident in… well, everything he did. Roman crossed his ankles and leaned against Patton’s bedroom door as Logan stalked the living room. “Amanda Cole is no longer any of our concern. She’ll be found soon enough, and her case will be put to rest… the other students, whoever, are still missing.”

                Virgil sat in one of the dining room chairs, drowsily leaning back into the place the table used to occupy. “So… you wanna go find them?”

                “That sounds like a waste of time,” Roman said irritably. He caught Logan’s gaze and held it, catching a hint of knowing in those dark eyes. “You know I’m right… the most likely scenario says that they’re all like Amanda Cole… or worse. Whoever is doing this…” he waved his hand flippantly. “Changing business… it’s not sophisticated. Or organized.”

                Logan hummed affirmatively. “The location of the ‘disappearances’ and attacks are getting wider and more far-spread, but…”

                “But what about Amanda?” Virgil asked, suddenly very awake and alert. “She was like… _right_ outside the house when she came after me and Patton.”

                Roman noticed it when Logan twitched and grimaced. He had some sort of… attachment to the human. It couldn’t be love… Logan wasn’t really capable of loving someone. At least, not to Roman’s astute knowledge. Nonetheless, Logan was irritated by the subject matter. Roman stepped forward, trying to smooth the choppy waters.

                “It could have been a coincidence,” Roman said fluidly, trying to wave off the possibility of a pattern. Logan didn’t look convinced. Roman shrugged. “It was just a one-time attack that –”

                “It wasn’t one time,” Logan snapped, his sharp eyes catching Roman and cutting into him. Roman leaned away from that look. It was the same look Logan got when he was about to do something… unsavory. He backed up a few steps as Logan stared to pace again. “It _wasn’t_ one time. It was twice, now. Two times a ghoul attacks in our territory… two times that the ghoul attacked Virgil.”

                Roman made a face. “Why is Virgil so important in this situation?”

                “Hey,” Virgil said, only sounding half-offended.

                “No offense,” Roman muttered as he turned his attention back to Logan. “But really, who’s to say that this ghoul-maker is truly that competent? They can’t even make a proper ghoul, for heaven’s sake.”

                “Yes, they did.” Logan stopped pacing and went to the window, tugging the curtain open to admire the cemetery outside. “They made a ghoul. Not a perfect one, no… but they made a proper ghoul. It takes time to accomplish that… it was _deliberate_. And ghouls don’t just stay in one place after they’re changed… the attacks must’ve been deliberate as well.”

                Quirking an eyebrow, Roman cross his arms over his chest and sighed heavily. “You are oddly invested in this little mystery.”

                Logan turned away from the window to give Roman a sidelong look. “Would you rather I wash my hands of this and watch the rest of the town fall into hysteria? Better yet, let us ignore _all_ of it, and watch the nether-creatures be unmasked by this monstrosity.”

                Roman felt his eye twitch at the word ‘monstrosity.’ “Careful, Logan… are you talking about the ghoul-maker… or the victims they’ve changed?”

                Thinning his lips into a straight line, Logan narrowed his eyes at Roman. He wanted to say something, Roman was sure… but he had to know that Patton was still asleep. He didn’t want to start an argument and wake him.

                As if in agreement with that thought, Logan turned on his heel and stomped to the stairs, muttering a quick, “I’m taking my watch in the cemetery,” as he slunk down the stairs and out of the house. Roman watched the stairs long after the front door slammed shut, not daring to let his gaze wander over to where Virgil sat. He had no intention of holding a conversation with the boy.

                Keen on returning to Patton’s warm, soft embrace, Roman put his hands on his hips and headed for the bedroom. He had nearly slipped away from the worldly plane when Virgil called out to him.

                “Hey, uh….” Virgil’s voice was hesitant. Almost scared. Roman looked at him over his shoulder, seeing the way Virgil rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Look, I know… I know we got off on the wrong foot. I don’t know what I _did_ to piss you off, but… I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of this whole hate-hate relationship.”

                Roman arched an elegant eyebrow. “Oh?”

                Virgil looked pointedly at the floor and nodded. “Yeah. And… Patton doesn’t really like it when we call names, anyway, so… maybe we could just…”

                “Just what?” Roman snapped, “Be _friends_? I don’t know you. You _certainly_ don’t know me. How could we accomplish that?”

                Catching Roman’s gaze with his own, sharp glare, Virgil frowned. “I dunno. Maybe we _talk_ like normal people? Get to know one another?”

                Roman huffed. “It’s nearly three in the morning.”

                “I’m not tired,” Virgil said darkly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you?”

                Letting out a long, dramatic sigh, Roman shuffled over to the dining room chairs and sat in the one farthest from Virgil. “I’m always tired.” For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Roman wanted to go back to Patton… Patton and his warm hands. Patton and his loving smile. Patton and all his naked perfection… Virgil sighed, and Roman gave him a dark look. “What now?”

                “I don’t… know? I mean… I don’t really know what to ask.”

                Roman bounced his foot impatiently. “Well, think of _something_ or I’ll be going back to Patton.”

                Fumbling for words, Virgil shrugged and threw his hands into the air. “I don’t know! Uh… how did you die?”

                Roman stopped bouncing his leg. “Really? That’s what you want to know?”

                “I guess? I didn’t really… have time to think…” Virgil shrugged and rolled his shoulders back. Roman heard the _pop_ and _click_ of his joints as Virgil sighed. “Sorry. If it’s too personal, you don’t have to –”

                “Typhoid,” said Roman crisply.

                Virgil gave him an odd look. “Wha… what?”

                “Typhoid fever,” Roman emphasized with a bored expression. “It spread through my town and killed my family… my mother, my brother, and then me.” Roman watched as Virgil flinched away, almost physically rejecting the answer. Roman blinked tiredly. “Anything _else_ you want to know?”

                “Oh. Um… I-I don’t know. You and Patton.” Virgil waved his hand vaguely. “You guys are… close.”

                “I love Patton with every fiber of my soul,” Roman corrected with a stern face. Virgil rolled his eyes.

                “Yeah, I get that, but… like… how did you guys… meet?”

                Roman sighed. “I was haunting the house he and Logan moved into. Anything _else_ I have to explain to you?”

                “Geez, I…” Virgil scratched a hand through his hair. “I don’t… look, if you don’t wanna be civil, that’s fine. Just say so.”

                Roman sat back and clicked his tongue. “I can be…” he smoothed the front of his shirt and took a calming breath. “I can be civil.”

                Virgil gave him a skeptical look but nodded anyway. “Cool. Cuz… I’m actually kinda curious about you and Patton.”

                Roman twitched. He _knew_ Virgil would come sniffing around Patton eventually. Roman was going to be cast aside. Virgil would take him away. Roman would be all alone… without the love of his afterlife. Gritting his teeth, Roman ducked his chin and frowned. “Is that so?”

                “Yeah, like… you guys grew up in a time where it was totally illegal to be gay.” Virgil sounded in _awe_ of this statement. Roman lifted his eyes, seeing the soft, subtle glow of admiration in his gray eyes as Virgil went on. “I mean… coming out in like 1800’s? That takes serious balls.”

                Roman blinked a few times. “I… suppose it did. Then again, to be fair, I grew up in a city. The rules were a little more… shall we say, lenient for boys who played on the stage.” He paused, then lowered his voice a little as he said, “I always knew I was different. I think my parents knew it, too. But I… I didn’t really get the chance to act on my feelings before I died.”

                Virgil shrugged. “Okay, fair, but… what about Patton? Didn’t he grow up on a farm?”

                “That he did,” Roman said with a dreamy smile. Patton’s accent had a tendency to slip when he was coming undone… that smooth southern drawl was like sweet, warm honey. Roman sighed happily. “His accent is just _glorious_.”

                “Easy tiger,” Virgil said sarcastically. Roman gave him a sharp look… and smiled. Perhaps Virgil _wasn’t_ as terrible as Roman had assumed. Maybe he was just curious. Maybe he really _was_ just friends with Patton. Roman watched as Virgil brushed his hand through his hair again, pushing his purple-tinged bands from his eyes as he sighed thoughtfully. “So… did… did he always know he was different? Like… did he know he was gay?”

                Roman blinked slowly, leaning forward to lean his elbows on his knees. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment, debating what to say. “That’s… a difficult question to answer.”

                After a moment of quiet, Virgil nodded a few times. “Yeah, it’s pretty personal…”

                Tilting his head to the side a bit, Roman gave Virgil a long, considering look. “Why so curious, boy? Are you eager to see if Patton enjoys _all_ men? Or just me?”

                “Hey. Relax, hot-head,” Virgil smirked as he raised his hands in surrender. Playful banter. Roman liked that. “I’m not after your man, I’m just… I dunno. Curious for curiosity’s sake? Coming out is no walk in the park, even these days… and the fact that you guys have been together for…” he looked at Roman interestingly. “How long have you guys been together?”

                Roman puffed out his chest proudly. “Nearly one hundred and twenty-eight years, now.”

                Virgil let out a long, impressed whistle. “ _Christ_ , that’s a steady relationship.”

                Roman beamed with pride, finding a newfound connection with Virgil. He wasn’t _so_ bad. For a human, anyway. Before Virgil had a chance to ask any other questions, Patton’s bedroom door _creaked_ open to reveal a slightly disheveled and adorably sleepy Patton, swaddled in a bathrobe and blinking blearily at the living room lights.

                “Roman…” He whispered, almost sounded confused. “You’re… out here… talking to Virgil?”

                “We decided to call a truce,” said Roman as he stood form his chair. “Rather than remain enemies… we might as well get along.”

                Patton nodded, as if this were common sense. He leaned heavily against the doorway, his temple resting on the wood as his eyes drooped closed. “Oh… good. Good… you boys should… should get along.”

                Virgil sounded more amused than concerned as he said, “You look a little tired there, Pat.”

                Patton giggled, but the sound ended up fading into a yawn. He looked in Roman’s direction and smiled sadly. “I… can’t sleep real well without Roman.” And good _god_ did that tug at Roman’s heartstrings. He swept up to Patton, taking his perfect face into his hands and kissing Patton so soundly, it might as well have been their last. When he pulled back, Patton’s eyes were still closed as he smiled contentedly. “Mm… you’re so sweet to me.”

                Roman melted at that, kissing Patton’s cheek before he said, “I love you, angel. I can’t help it.”

                Patton hummed, his hands coming up to grab at Roman’s sleeves tiredly. “Can… can you sing to me? Just… just for a little while?”

                Roman startled at that and leaned back to catch the expression on Patton’s face. There was nothing but sleepy questioning in those hazel eyes. Roman frowned; Patton normally asked Roman to sing for him if nightmares were keeping him awake. Did Patton have a nightmare while Roman was outside, talking to Virgil? Had he woken up afraid and alone? Roman’s heart crumbled, and he pushed the bedroom door open a bit more, steering Patton into the room.

                “Of _course_ I can sing for you, my darling,” he went to the bed and pulled back the blankets, patting the sheets expectantly. “Come… I’ll sing all night, if I have to.”

                Patton smiled tiredly, lingering in the doorway for a moment. He turned to the living room, facing the light just once more to say goodnight to Virgil. Roman heard the younger man say something in response, but it was too muffled to hear from the bed. He didn’t mind it. Patton closed the door and untied his robe, letting it fall open as he shuffled back to bed.

                When Patton tucked himself under the blankets and sighed into the pillow, Roman reached up to brush that soft, curling hair from his forehead. Patton smiled and opened his eyes just a sliver, looking at Roman with enough warmth that it nearly burned. Love, unconditional... Roman could drown in it.

                He started to sing. Something soft, from the last show he ever participated in. Something gentle to soothe Patton’s nerves. It worked well enough… Patton sighed and relaxed into the mattress, and Roman took this as a mark of praise. After he’d sung two ballads, he sidled down to lay face to face with Patton, watching that sweet smile as Patton’s eyelids drooped heavily.

                Patton’s breathing slowed. His eyes fluttered shut for the last time. Roman caught his breath, holding it as he watched Patton fall into a comforted sleep. He couldn’t join him in that slumber… he’d never be able to. Even so, Roman lay with him, holding Patton’s warm, soft hand in his own, watching the way Patton’s eyelashes fluttered as he dreamt.

                Once he slipped his hand from Patton’s, the warmth in Roman’s hand faded quickly, leaving him cold and alone. He left that feeling linger, long after Patton had turned away from him in his sleep. He looked at the palm of his hand, marveling at the fact that he, cold and dead, was able to feel Patton’s warmth.

                That feeling of awe didn’t leave him. Not even when he wrapped Patton up in his arms and he clung to his warmth. He craved it. And he would do anything for protect it.

+++++

                Logan stood among the headstones with a tense, irritated expression. His brow was furrowed, and the roundabout thoughts in his head were starting to ache as he stood, still as any of the statues, with his hands clasped behind his back.

                He needed to think of a solution. A next-stage plan of attack for this vampire on the loose. It could ruin the centuries of work that went into hiding the nether realm’s existence. To some, it may be a welcome change… freedom in their own identity? No need to hide? It would be a nice alternative.

                But Logan knew better. He knew that if their true natures were to be revealed, they would be hunted. Slaughtered… perhaps even captured and studied. A nuisance, at the very least. Some may escape… the vast majority would not. If word were to spread that a _vampire_ was the cause of the children going missing, the public would cry for blood. Vampire blood, specifically. Logan shuddered at that thought as he started to stalk the cemetery.

                The calm quiet of the gravestones was grounding. The evening mist lingered over the grass like a soft, shapeless guardian, keeping those in their graves, where they belonged. Logan sighed and leaned against a tall, cross-shaped grave marker. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring out at the street beyond the cemetery gate.

                Amanda Cole had walked down that street a week and a half ago. She’d been alive and well. Had Logan seen her? Was there a chance that he could have saved her? He clenched his jaw and dug his heel into the dewy grass. It was too late to regret. He needed to look forward… plan his next move. Where could he go? What could he do?

                Movement caught his attention. The sound of rustling… a creature in the underbrush. Another ghoul so soon? Logan immediately crouched down, erasing himself from sight as he listened carefully. Heavy, uncoordinated movements. The _snap_ of twigs and the _crunch_ of leaves underfoot. Inhuman at the least. Logan glanced back at the house, momentarily wondering if Virgil would stay inside. He’d come out once before… just to talk to Logan. If he did the same thing again, the creature would go for him without thought.

                Logan shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. Too much Virgil… too much _worry_. It was exhausting having to care about someone else. The sounds of the creature slunk along the south end of the cemetery, still on the outside of the fence. Logan followed the movement with his eyes on the trees, watching the way the dark, shadowy outlines of the trees shivered and swayed.

                Another movement. Something much more organic. Something slow… and human. Logan’s chest ached with momentary fear. _Not Virgil_ , he begged wordlessly. _Please, not Virgil._ He turned toward the sound of footsteps on pavement, finding himself staring out into the street. A young man shuffled along the asphalt, looking like he was half a drink from unconsciousness. Logan blinked; he knew this human. Virgil’s college dormmate. Remy.

                Remy stumbled along the street in a strange, mindless stupor, looking to the world like a man without any cares or fears. Logan frowned at that. What was he _doing_ all the way out here? Logan paused and narrowed his eyes. What had _Amanda_ been doing out there, all those nights ago? Why had she come down their street? Her friends said she didn’t drink. She should have been aware of her surroundings… and yet, she hadn’t screamed when she’d been attacked. She didn’t call for help. Had she been drugged, like Remy? Had she been staggering along, just like he was?

                Logan watched with astute interest as Remy continued along down the street at a shambling pace. The creature in the trees followed, the movements becoming more jagged as it realized Remy’s location. Logan tensed; it was going to attack him. It was smart enough to pick him as the target, rather than a closer forest animal. Logan grit his teeth and glared into the black trees. The situation had become incalculably more dangerous. This ghoul wasn’t just a mindless pawn… it was smart.

                That made Logan’s job immeasurably harder.

                Creeping along the edge of the cemetery, Logan kept to the shadows as he followed Remy’s thoughtless staggering. He looked like a brainless zombie, stumbling along the way he was… had he been brainwashed? Hypnotized? The slack expression suggested some sort of drug… of the work of an Alchemist.

Logan ducked under the wings of an angel, closing his eyes to hear the ghoul edge around the house. It was close. He crouched down, the muscles in his legs tense and ready to spring. It breathed heavily, tensing to leap. Logan’s felt his body shake. Was it fear? Or adrenaline? He hadn’t been so shuddery in a fight since… since New York, most likely. He waited, his muscles burning his eyes open so wide it nearly hurt to keep them open. The creature, a dark, shapeless mass, stooped low to the ground, bracing itself as Remy came into its line of sight.

                Logan jumped a fraction of a second behind, bowling into the creature mid-air. It felt like running into a cement wall, all thick muscle and cold skin... Logan didn’t let this deter him. He and the creature hit the grass and rolled along, grappling for each other as they fought to get the upper hand. Logan grasped for a hold on an arm or leg and caught… hair. Long, tangled hair. They stopped rolling and Logan had the creature pinned. His glasses were askew. His jaw was clenched. He held the creature’s wrists to the grass, staring down in utter horror at the familiar face beneath him.

                Emily Carron looked up at him with amused, glittering green eyes. Her lips were stained that familiar shade of blood red. She smiled, and Logan felt sick. She was _dead_ … so how was she here, smiling up at him like that? She struggled beneath him, kicking her legs as she twisted her wrists in his grip, trying to regain the upper hand.

                Logan remembered that night, back in 1881. The flash of gunpowder… the kickback of his pistol. He had _shot_ her… point-blank range. He’d watched as her body crumbled to the floor, her nether-creature blood spilling black and thick over the wood. She had died.

                He _killed_ Emily Carron… so what _was_ this?

                “Mr. Stein,” Emily gasped, her lips twisting into that familiar, deranged grin. “An unwelcome surprise, as always.”

                Logan tightened his hold on her wrists, gritting his teeth as he fought to make a decision; he knew this wasn’t possible. Emily was dead. Was he delusional? Was he dreaming? He could let her go… but that may backfire in the end. He hiked up his leg, pressing Emily’s kicking feet to the ground. She huffed like a petulant child before smiling up at him again.

                “Is this how you did it?” She asked, eyes flickering in honest curiosity as she arched up beneath him, pressing their bodies together. “Is this how you killed _Emily Carron_? By pressing her to the ground? Forcing her to submit?”

                Logan pushed himself away from her, revolted by the unwanted friction. Emily took this opportunity. She lunged. He should have seen it coming… should have braced himself. But he hadn’t gotten the time to think.

                Emily slammed her forehead into his, and the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, oh my... these men have matured in some ways...
> 
> But some things never change.
> 
> See you next chapter.


	9. Chatper 8

_Yorkshire, England– 1778_

_Logan stood on the edge of the balcony with his mother. They overlooked the town from their old, crumbling castle. A true vision of aristocracy. Useless bloodshed. Secrets. Lies. It all came together to mold their fine, secluded lives. His mother’s hand was on his shoulder, holding him to reality as the moon hung low overhead. Heavy and real… life between the balance._

_“What am I to you?” Logan said softly, glancing up at the women who raised him._

_She looked off into the distance with that ever-knowing smile. Warm and gentle, just as she’d always been. Things had changed. She had changed. A strange man now came to the manor with two perfect little girls on each arm. He said odd things… whispered wicked words to Logan’s mother and promised devilish deeds. His mother was no longer his own._

_Bitterly, Logan took her hand and shoved it off his shoulder. “Am I a tool? A toy?” His mother finally turned to look at him, her deep, brown eyes catching the blue in the night sky as she smiled pitifully at him. Logan took a step back, suddenly feeling very small in his mother’s shadow. “Was I… was I ever your son?”_

_Louise Stein smiled at her son, all soft lips and no feeling. “You were, Logan. And I loved you.” There was an uncomfortable pause, and she turned her gaze onto the village below them. “But you’re so like your father… so cautious. So… submissive to the way things are.”_

_Logan twitched, his hands grasping at nothing as he tried to make sense of her words. “B-but… you always said we must be careful. You… you_ taught _me to –”_

_“Adhere to human standards?” Louise asked, clicking her tongue in derision. “That time has come and gone, Logan. The world_ should _be ours,” she whispered, her words so unlike her own. Logan’s brow furrowed as he frowned, bracing himself as his mother turned to him once more. “Logan… my son… my life… if you truly loved me, you would help me. You would help us bring an end to this world. To humankind.”_

_Logan took a step back. This was not his mother; not the sweet woman that sang him to sleep. Not the mother who kissed his sun-scarred skin. Not the mother who promised to protect him from the world… no. This was someone else. A stranger in his mother’s skin._

_“If… if love is contingent on destroying the world as we know it… I suppose I don’t love you,” Logan said without hesitation. “I don’t think I should.”_

_There was no malice in Louise’s smile as she ducked her chin and nodded thoughtfully. “No, my son.” She looked out into the distance, her voice seemingly close and far away at the same time as she whispered, “I don’t think you ever could.”_

_Logan felt his chest she at that; what did that mean? Was he incapable of loving his own mother? Did she use him as incompetent? If that was the case, he had no need for love. Even as a child, he knew he was better off without it._

_Turning away from he balcony, Logan took a step... then faltered. The ground beneath him swayed. He felt dizzy... and sick. Why? He struggled for something to keep himself steady, but his arms didn’t move. His vision was slowly fading and bleeding away into inky blackness. Frantic, he turned back to his mother. She simply smiled._

_Logan felt his body hit the ground._

                “Logan!”

                That voice wasn’t his mother’s... it was a man. Familiar and frightened. Logan distantly heard footsteps. Echoed, odd renditions of a front door opening, and then slamming shut... voices. Another. Two others? Possibly strangers… possibly humans.

                Logan took a breath, inhaling the scent of grass and damp earth. He was on the ground. The back of his shirt and trousers were wet with dew. Too cold to be morning... it was still night? Why would humans be wandering around his yard at night?

                The evening rushed back to him with a force. Remy walking down the street. The creature sneaking up behind him. Emily. _Emily_.

                “Logan? Can you hear me?”

                Logan opened his eyes abruptly, seeing Virgil kneeling over him with a panicked expression. That panic lessened when Logan focused on him… but it didn’t completely disappear. Holding a hand to his head, Logan felt the cracked, dry remnants of blood sticking to his brow. Emily had gotten him good... even his glasses were cracked. It was interesting that she’d left him alive at all.

                “Logan,” Virgil said again, this time more irritated and insistent. He reached out a hand, smoothing it down the front of Logan’s shirt… almost like he was searching for something. Logan allowed the touch; perhaps he’d been injured, and the wound was already healing. Did Virgil find this morbid practice fascinating? Probably. Humans are easily impressed. Virgil leaned forward, catching Logan’s wandering gaze and holding it. “Hey. Are… are you okay?”

                Logan blinked, trying to focus on anything but Virgil’s anxious, thrumming heartbeat. “I’m… yes. I’m fine.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position, feeling the sharp, pulsating pain of a broken rib. He winced, twisted, and hissed painfully. _Two_ broken ribs, it would seem. They would set themselves in time. But it didn’t make sense.

                Emily had been caught in the act. He’d found her out… for the second time, it would seem. Just as he’d thought… it was interesting that she’d left him alive. Logan frowned as Virgil’s hands fluttered over his shoulders and through his hair, muttering some nonsense about a concussion. Wouldn’t Emily want to kill whoever witnessed her little hunting spree? It would be the logical thing to do.

                Logan’s thoughts were cut short when the front door of the house swung open once more. Remy stepped out into the fading night with a cellphone in hand and a shocked expression on his face.

                “Oh. Damn,” he breathed, tapping the screen of his phone absently. “Guess I’ll just… cancel that ambulance.”

                Logan’s eyes went wide, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to make heads or tails of what he was seeing. Remy had been on the street… he’d been the prey. How was he still alive? Logan had been unconscious… there was _no one_ to protect him from Emily. By all reasonable accounts, Remy should have disappeared into the night with Emily. That, or he should’ve been ripped apart, like so many unwise students had been.

                Coiled like a twisted spring, Logan leapt from the ground and hurled himself at Remy. The boy didn’t stand a chance, and his phone went clattering to the floor as Logan slammed him against the outside wall of the mortuary. Logan inhaled the scent of cinnamon and clove. Behind the shaded lenses of his sunglasses, Logan could see the startled, wide-eyed fear that flickered through his gold irises.

                Across the yard, Virgil was scrambling to his feet. “Logan! What the fuck are you _doing_?”

                “Christ,” Remy gasped, a breathless laugh on his tongue as he grinned. “I save your life, and this is what I get?” Logan leaned forward and glared at Remy, baring his teeth just enough to prove himself as a threat. That nervous grin quickly disappeared as Remy swallowed thickly and licked his lips. “Hey, hey… we’re all friends, yeah? All on the same side?”

                “Logan! Get _off_ of him!” Virgil grabbed Logan’s shoulders and pulled to no avail. Logan was a stone wall. Even so, Virgil tugged and pounded on Logan’s back.

                It almost reminded Logan of the way he held Amanda to the wall, her feet dangling above the floor, her eyes listless and unalert… Logan felt his grimace soften, and he slowly set Remy back on the floor. Adjusting the front of his leather jacket, Remy sniffed haughtily and nodded in acceptance.

                “Lit. Good that we could come to an agreement.”

                “I have made no such agreements,” Logan grumbled as he still gripped the collar of Remy’s shirt. “How could someone like you save me? You were inches from death. A human couldn’t…” he stopped, his eyes flickering to the dark, dark lenses of those sunglasses. Gold irises. Cinnamon and clove. Logan released his hold on the boy, finally seeing the way Remy’s lips had curled into a disapproving frown. “A witch.”

                Remy’s eyes went wide. “Hey, hey! Wiccan. _Wiccan_.” He flicked off his sunglasses with a smirk, tossing his curling, brown bangs from those golden, magic-imbued eyes as he said, “Big difference.”

                Virgil, startled by this realization, stumbled back and away from Logan and Remy. After an initial shock, Virgil huffed and gestured to Remy angrily. “Dude. What the fuck?”

                Remy shrugged apologetically, and Logan slunk away from him, standing in the doorway and feeling his side for his broken ribs. Third and forth on the left side. A swift kick to the abdomen before Emily ran? No… it couldn’t have been her. He’d let shock color his perception. It couldn’t be Emily… she was gone. So… who attacked him last night?

                “Sorry, sweetie… family secret,” Remy said with a hint of an apology in his voice. Logan rolled his eyes when Remy twirled his sunglasses around his finger. “Not really allowed to let people know about nether-magic and shit.”

                “Yeah, but… is _anyone_ in this town a normal person?” Virgil asked, his voice pitched toward hysteric disbelief. “’Cuz I’m starting to have my doubts.”

                “That’s not the issue, Virgil,” Logan snapped, his hand still hovering gingerly over his abdomen. His gaze turned and lingered heavily on Remy, and even if the boy didn’t turn to look at him, there was an acknowledgement in the stiff line of his shoulders. “The issue is why you were here… and what you know.”

                Remy shrugged loosely, giving Logan a tired look over his shoulder. “I just know what my Uncle Picani told me… crazy ghouls on the loose. Use protective herbs to avoid some brainwashing...” He held up a small sachet and shook it lightly, sending more of the herbal scent in Logan’s direction. He wrinkled his nose and frowned, but Remy simply smiled. “I’ve got the goods to keep away baddies… but that’s it.”

                Logan’s eye twitched as a rib started to mend itself, the pain of correcting muscles rippling through his stomach as he frowned. “Your… uncle… Emile Picani? The alchemist downtown?”

                Forming his fingers into little guns, Remy winked and grinned. “That’s him!” His little finger-guns slowly lowered as his eyes narrowed perceptively. “I’m… actually kinda surprised it wasn’t _you_ behind all this stuff.”

                While Logan’s glare melted down into something immovably furious, Virgil gave his friend a strange look. “Logan? Why would he do this?”

                Remy shrugged. “Why does anyone do anything? Vampires are fuckin’ weird, hun.”

                “You’re one to talk,” Logan grumbled in a low, warning tone. Remy ignored it.

                “You’re a bad actor, honey,” Remy said as he smiled at Virgil, those gold eyes probing Virgil’s uncomfortable body language before continuing. “I knew something was up when you said you were gonna stay here. It’s why I came by here; I thought maybe I could lure out the vampire and see who was behind this mess…” He popped the collar of his leather jacket with a grin. “I’m ripe prey for the pickin’.”

                “You _fucking_ idiot,” Virgil sputtered as she shook his head and paced the front porch.

                “I agree,” Logan conceded as the pain in his third rib started to recede. “Only an idiot thinks of playing bait for a vampire.”

                “I can see that.” Remy pursed his lips and gave Virgil a sidelong look before retrieving his phone from the floor. “I’m a little disappointed though… I thought you were the evil mastermind. I thought if I could just… get rid of you, all the rumors would go away.”

                Logan rolled his eyes and opened the front door. “Those are the assumptions of a child.”

                He was nearly halfway through the door when Remy called, “She knew you. She said your name.”

                Virgil perked up at that. “Her? Who? The person who attacked you?” There was an almost immeasurable pause, just a breath of a moment, before Virgil whispered, “Was… was it Emily?”

                Spinning on his heel, Logan felt venom hot on his tongue as he spat, “Emily is _dead_. She isn’t behind this.”

                Virgil held his hands up in surrender. “How the hell was I supposed to know that? You guys never tell me anything.”

                “For good reason,” Logan shot back, his gaze burning into Virgil’s as he stood his ground. “Our past is none of your business.”

                “What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?” Virgil growled as he marched up to the doorway and crowded Logan’s space. A challenge. Defiance. It made Logan’s stomach churn as he met that steely stare. “I think living here with you guys warrants a little transparency, don’t you?”

                Remy rocked back on his heels, making an odd face as he glanced between Logan and Virgil. “ _Yikes_. A little early for a couple-fight, isn’t it?”

                “We’re not –” Logan stopped, bit his tongue, and retreated into the house. He had no time for the babbling of lesser-inclined nether-beings. He had a problem to solve. A vampire to identify. A villain to stop. It could only go so far until something regretful took place.

                Before the door could shut behind him, Virgil’s foot caught in the door and he pushed his way inside. “Hey. Hey! We’re not done talking.”

                “Go back to your friend, Virgil,” Logan said dismissively as he climbed the stairs. Virgil didn’t leave him.

                “Remy is gonna give me a ride to school… he’s hanging out on the porch. Wait.” Logan could feel Virgil reaching for him, trying to catch him. “I said _wait!_ ” Logan sped up, taking the stairs quick while Virgil was hot on his heels. “No. No, no, no… you don’t get to do that.”

                “Do what?”

                “Say ominous, angsty shit like that and just walk away.” Virgil caught Logan’s arm at the top of the stares and forcefully turned him around. “You’re the older one in this situation. Aren’t you supposed to be more mature?”

                Logan frowned. “I _am_ more –”

                “No, you’re not,” Virgil laughed breathlessly. Logan opened his mouth to disagree, and Virgil cut him off. “You’re not!”

                On the other side of the living room, Patton stood from his chair and glanced between them nervously. “Logan, what… are you –”

                “Not now, Patton,” Logan said, waving Patton’s mother-hen instincts away. In response to this, Roman put a hand on Patton’s shoulder and pushed him back down into his chair, watching the altercation with minute interest. Logan turned his attention back to Virgil, glaring at that rebellious stare. “What happened in the past is none of your concern, Virgil. It’s no one’s business but mine.”

                Virgil let out an indignant huff. “But if it helps me understand what’s happening, then –”

                “No!” Logan snapped, waving his hands in the air in sharp, angry movements that made Virgil stumble back with wide eyes. “No, I won’t speak of it! It’s done! She’s _dead_! I killed her!”

                Still watching Logan carefully, Virgil worked his jaw before saying, “And that’s never gonna change. That means someone else is behind this…” he narrowed his eyes, “And that’s driving you crazy.”

                Feeling a jolt of alarmed irritation, Logan took a step back. “That’s… not… I – This is ridiculous!” Logan threw his hands into the air and marched out of the living room and into the safety of his own room, a welcome change from the heavy stares of Patton and Roman where the watched the argument from afar.

                Logan couldn’t relax, though. He felt agitated caged-in by his own incompetence, scorned by the knowledge that he’d let the culprit slip through his grasp. He paced restlessly, circling his coffin as he wrung his hands, burning with irritation. No rest for the wicked, it seemed.

                He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he paced in the dim, low light of his table lamp. Perhaps an hour. Perhaps only a moment. Either way, the sky was beginning to lighten. The stars were receding back into the void where they belonged, and the sun was reaching out long, striking rays across a navy-blue canvas.

                The night was over… and the culprit was gone.

                Furious by this development, Logan grabbed his lamp and raised it over his head, intent on shattering the frame on the floor… then he remembered Virgil’s words from only a few days prior. He was _not_ a child. He would _not_ throw a tantrum. Fury boiled down to a malcontent simmer, and Logan set the lamp back on the small table, letting a hint of tension out of his shoulders. Nice… but not enough. He was still a spring too tightly wound… a rubber band pulled too far.

                One movement away from snapping and coming undone.

                “Hey,” Virgil’s voice came from the doorway. Logan didn’t look up from the small table by his reading chair, choosing instead to glare at the corner of the wall. Virgil took this as an invitation to enter the room and slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

                “I’m not going to apologize,” Logan said lowly, his voice a gravelly warning. Virgil didn’t seem bothered by it.

                “Good. I’m not going to, either.” Virgil rounded the room, his fingers trailing along the shining, newly-polished surface of Logan’s casket. Logan could hear the drag of his skin on the wood surface, just a breath of sound in the quiet room. “Just… wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

                Logan raised his chin but didn’t meet Virgil’s eye. “I’m fine.”

                “Yeah?” Virgil asked, his voice pitched toward sarcasm that Logan elected to ignore. His uneven steps went past the bookshelf… toward the table… around Logan… and to the window. Ignored… but not overlooked. Virgil’s voice was soft as he said, “I get that you’re trying to do this whole ‘man in charge’ thing, but… you’re not alone in this situation. We’re all trying to work on this together.”

                Logan scoffed and went to the bookshelf, keeping his back to Virgil as he sought out his pair of spare glasses. “Yes, but… a human like you can’t do much in this situation.”

                “You don’t know that.” Virgil argued.

                “Yes.” Logan took off his cracked glasses, set them in the spare case slowly, and turned to see Virgil with unbroken lenses. “I do.”

                There was something hurt in Virgil’s eyes as he said, “ _No_ , you _don’t_ , Logan. You keep acting like you know best. Like you know everything. But… you don’t.” Logan opened his mouth to fight that claim, but Virgil didn’t give him the chance. “I get it! You’re frustrated! Hell, we’re _all_ frustrated. But brooding in your room doesn’t help us fix anything.”

                “I’m not –”

                “Yes, you are,” Virgil cut Logan short with a snap, his silvery gaze burning through messy, purple-tinged bangs. “I know brooding better than anyone, Specs. You can’t fight me on this.”

                Shaking his head tiredly, Logan sighed. “What would you have me do?”

                For a second, Virgil simply stared at him, his eyes glittering with pity that Logan would _never_ have wanted to receive in the past. And yet… from Virgil, it felt comforting. Like a soft, forlorn kiss… or an embrace that didn’t last long enough. He simply looked. And Logan didn’t dare look away.

                When Virgil stepped forward and took his hand, Logan allowed himself to be led, like a sad, lost child, out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. There, Virgil sat him on the edge of the bathtub and went to fill the sink with warm water. Logan watched the way Virgil dipped a washrag into the water, carefully wringing the cloth with slightly trembling hands.

                They didn’t speak as Virgil came to stand in front of Logan, carefully wiping away at the long since dried blood on his forehead and face. Logan could’ve done it himself. He knew that. But there was a soft, sweet intimacy in the way Virgil gently tilted his head back and wiped the warm cloth over his skin. Logan nearly wanted to reach up his hands and touch Virgil… rest his hands on the crest of those hips that were so close to him. Or maybe lean forward and press his ear to Virgil’s breast, listening to the steady, living sound of his heart.

                He didn’t. He simply closed his eyes, sighing tiredly as Virgil cleaned his face. Virgil removed his glasses, setting them on the vanity like a priceless artifact before he scooted closer, wiping away at the dirt and blood around Logan’s eyes. He did this in silence, too. His breath soft and even, washing over Logan’s cheeks as he cupped Logan’s face with one hand and wiped away nightmares with the other.

                “Is it supposed to be black?” Virgil asked after an impossible amount of time had passed.

                Logan’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at a blurry, hazy outline of Virgil’s expression. “Come again?”

                Virgil went to the sink, rinsed the cloth, and came back to him. Logan spread his legs to allow Virgil to step closer. Virgil did, blurring the lines between them so imperceptivity, it made Logan ache. “The blood… _your_ blood. Is it supposed to be black, like this?”

                “Oh,” Logan sighed and closed his eyes as Virgil brushed his hair back, swiping a freshly damped washrag over his furrowed brow. “Yes, it is.”

                Virgil hummed thoughtfully, and Logan opened his eyes to meet those thoughtful, gray irises again. “Just like the ghouls…”

                “Nether creatures are anomalies,” Logan murmured as Virgil stepped away to rinse the cloth again. When he came back, Logan leaned into Virgil’s touch, closing his eyes contentedly and allowing Virgil to see him in all his vulnerability. “Our bodies don’t work like humans… or real, living creatures for that matter.”

                Virgil clicked his tongue before muttering, “It’s in your hair.” He tossed the cloth into the sink and ducked out of the bathroom. He returned with a small bottle of his own shampoo and a chair. The chair was set in front of the sink backwards, and Virgil pat the seat expectantly. Logan raised an eyebrow.

                “I’m perfectly capable of washing my own hair, Virgil.”

                “Yeah, but this is better,” Virgil said as he ran the hot water in the sink. When Logan didn’t move, Virgil gave him a sly smile. “C’mon… my mom used to wash my hair like this all the time. She said it was good for getting out the bad energy.”

                “Bad energy,” Logan muttered with a roll of his eyes.

                It was nonsense. Bad energy couldn’t be dispelled with a simple shower or shampoo. Even so, he stood from the edge of the bathtub and sat back in the chair, leaning his head back until Virgil could rub hot, soapy water into his hair. There was a moment of quiet where Logan simply watched Virgil’s hazy, vague outline. He looked determined, focused on the patches of Logan’s scalp that had healed almost instantly after being torn. There was still a nervous tension in his shoulders… Logan wanted that to go away. To lift, like a weight from the poor boy’s shoulders.

                What would a human do in this situation? Hold Virgil? Make a false promise that the world was fine? That no one was in danger? Logan’s mouth ran dry at that thought; he didn’t want to lie to Virgil. At this stage, it would simply be cruel. Still… he had to say _something_.

                “Your mother,” Logan finally muttered as he stared pointedly up at that bathroom ceiling. Virgil’s fingers paused in his hair, almost unsure, but went back to shampooing almost immediately. Logan pursed his lips. “She was a spiritualist, wasn’t she?”

                Virgil hesitated. “Yeah,” he whispered, hardly over the rush of hot water through the pipes. “She always thought there was more to stuff. And, now that I look back… I guess she was right,” he laughed, but it was not a happy sound. Logan give him a sidelong look, but without his glasses, he couldn’t clearly see the emotions flickering through Virgil’s eyes. “She was great, though. She was… great.”

                Logan paused. There was discomfort in the air. Had he crossed a line? “I didn’t mean to… pry,” Logan said carefully, the words tasting odd on his tongue. An apology? To a human? It felt odd.

                “You didn’t. You’re fine. I just… I miss my mom sometimes,” Virgil scrubbed shampoo into Logan’s scalp, and Logan let his eyes drift shut again. It felt heavenly. Now he understood why Patton loved to take baths with Roman… if he had someone to wash his hair like this, he wouldn’t mind sharing the bathtub. Virgil snapped him out of his thoughts, muttering a soft, “She deserved better.”

                “I assume you’re referring to her funeral,” Logan said, opening his eyes so he could focus on the conversation. “It was very… lackluster.”

                Virgil snorted derisively, and Logan wrinkled his nose at the sound. “That’s putting it nicely. My dad… he’s a hardcore Christian. He thought he could… convert my mom, or something.” He paused, running his fingers through Logan’s hair gently as he thought. “But she didn’t let go of what she believed in. She always taught me… to stick to what I believe. Trust in my gut… even if things get tough.”

                Logan didn’t dare move away as Virgil played with his hair. It was some sort of coping mechanism… soothing Logan, or himself? Logan wasn’t sure. He simply murmured, “You loved her.”

                Virgil gave him an odd look, and even without his glasses, Logan could see the quirk of a smile in his lips. “Well, _yeah_. She was my mom. She was… the best,” Virgil rinsed the sweet-smelling soap from Logan’s hair, looking down at the sink as he said, “When she got sick, my dad thought prayer would save her. It didn’t, of course. It didn’t… and he always thought… she was cursed by the devil or something.”

                He laughed again, low and angry, and Logan didn’t say anything. He thinned his lips, debating the pros and cons of finding Virgil’s father… and killing him. But, no… that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t go around killing innocent people, even if they deserved it. Times had changed. Forensics were top of the line. Vampires needed to watch their step.

                When Virgil turned off the water, Logan moved to sit up, only to be pushed back as Virgil slowly, soothingly, massaged his scalp. The feeling sent molten pleasure down Logan’s spine, and he felt the tension in his shoulders melt away as Virgil ran his fingers through is hair.

                “What about you?” Virgil said suddenly, startling Logan out of his pleasurable stupor.

                “Me?”

                “Yeah, you. What about your mom? What was she like? Or…” he leaned over to give Logan a crooked smile. “Is she still alive?”

                Logan cracked a smile at that, and he closed his eyes as he murmured, “No, she isn’t. I suppose we’re alike, in that sense.”

                “Shit… I’m sorry,” Virgil murmured, his fingernails dragging through Logan’s hair in a way that should _not_ have felt so wonderful. He sounded far away when he said, “I didn’t know.”

                “Don’t be,” Logan assured him softly. “I killed her.”

                Virgil’s hands in his hair disappeared, and Logan opened his eyes to see Virgil backing his way up to the bathroom doorway. Afraid… perhaps betrayed by this new information. Logan needed to explain. He wanted Virgil to come back… for the distance to be eliminated, and Virgil grounding, soothing presence to return.

                He sat up, feeling the water from his hair run down the back of his neck and drench the back of his dress shirt. But he didn’t care. He simply retrieved his glasses, put them on his nose, and launched into a simplified explanation.

                “My mother was… deceived, in certain ways. You’ve heard of Emily Carron… but it wasn’t her idea to start a legion of ghouls. It was initially her father’s plan.” He stood from the chair, watching Virgil’s confused stare as Logan grabbed a towel from the rail on the wall and dried his hair. “He came to our home one day, back in 1775, and he brought…” Logan stopped, dropping the towel onto the floor as he looked up at Virgil with wide, understanding eyes. “He brought his daughters.”

                Virgil blinked, only half-understanding Logan’s apparent epiphany. “Oh… okay? Emily and…”

                “Annalise!” Logan said, stepping forward with urgency. “She was always so _plain_ and _quiet_ , I’d never suspect… but that’s just it. I’d _never_ expect it.”

                Logan marched out of the bathroom and into living room, eager to pace and theorize. Meanwhile, Virgil stood in the doorway with the damp towel in his hands, fidgeting restlessly as he watched.

                “She was so quiet… so docile. She never seemed interested in her father’s plans… and after my mother was gone, she simply… left.” Logan crossed the room in short, clipped strides, ignoring the way Patton and Roman were watching him, wide-eyed and confused, from the sofa. He continued to monologue, eager to come to some sort of new conclusion. “I’d assumed she had settled down into an uneventful existence… conforming, as I have. But… Emily didn’t. She always envied Emily. I didn’t see it… I didn’t _see_ it.”

                “Logan, hey, buddy,” Virgil said from the bathroom doorway, his voice a little harried. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

                “She’s trying to emulate her sister’s behavior!” Logan shouted, gesturing wildly to the world outside the house.

It was _obvious_ , wasn’t it? She’d dyed her hair red, just like Emily’s. Curled it to look like hers, too. She’d taken up the same plan. Executed her late father’s will. It made sense… she’d always been overlooked. She wanted recognition… even if it _was_ two hundred years late.

                There was a telling pause where Roman and Patton simply looked at each other, each looking baffled by Logan’s excitement. Logan lowered his arms slowly. They didn’t see the connection. Of course they didn’t. Patton didn’t know about Emily’s sister, and by extension, neither did Roman. They were all blind to the possibility that the ghoul-making plans had run in the family.

                All except Logan.

                He felt like he was on a precipice, one breath away from crashing down into a terrible, world-shattering realization. Logan started to pace again, eager to keep the train of thought going. He’d almost… forgotten her. Soft, quiet Annaliese. Long, platinum hair that was smooth as silk. She’d been… personable. Perhaps even timid, when she was younger. A gentle soul with eyes of roughly cut jade. Darker than Emily’s… Logan should have _seen_ that. But it was dark at the time, and his eyes were not what they used to be when he was younger. He was at a disadvantage… in more ways than one.

                Distantly, Logan could hear Patton murmuring in confusion, “Who… who is he talking about?”

                “Emily’s sister, I guess,” Virgil’s voice was warped with discomfort as he went to sit on the sofa. Logan could feel the weight of Virgil’s eyes on his back as he continued to pace. “I didn’t even know she had a sister.”

                “Neither did I,” Patton breathed, almost sounding a little dizzy. Roman was quick to soothe him.

                “Not to worry, love. I’m sure Logan knows exactly what to do,” he said with every hint of confidence. Logan saw through it. There was a tremor in his voice… a panic that Logan had known first-hand. Roman’s voice cut through the heavy-handed silence as he asked, “Well, Count Crass? What is your next step in this mess?”

                Logan felt his steps falter as indecision settled, real and abnormal, in his bones. He could hunt down Annaliese… but what came next? He couldn’t simply kill her without knowing the location of all the ghouls. But it was a catch-22… if he didn’t find her soon, she’d inevitably run off and find _more_ victims to add to her arsenal. Which to tackle first… the feeble mastermind, or her army?

                Fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves, Logan glanced at the window on the far wall. Sunlight was starting to stretch across a sleepy sky, shaking life and light into the earth while Logan glared in disapproval.

                “Logan?” Roman asked again, his voice pitched toward a sing-song tone as he said, “Are you listening?”

                “Yes,” Logan snapped as he turned on his heel and crossed his arms. “The sun is rising. Annaliese won’t be wandering around at this time. That gives me –” he paused, then glanced at Virgil. “It gives _us_ the opportunity to strategize.”

                “Annaliese?” Patton breathed, the name almost a reverent whisper as he fluttered his hands over his lips. He looked lost in his own home as he mumbled to himself, “Is… that her name?”

                Virgil made a face. “Pat. Are you okay?”

                “I… remember an Annaliese,” Patton whispered, still looking a little shaken as Roman helped him sit down on the sofa. Logan watched with interest as Patton said, “She… she was a visitor. Emily called her… her cousin. Just a cousin from the city. I only met her… once… but she had those eyes…” Patton’s normally warm, freckled face was oddly pale as he murmured, “She had Emily’s eyes.”

                Roman opened his mouth to speak, to say something sappy and comforting, but the words never came. Logan watched with morbid interest as Roman opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, only to produce no sound. No words of comfort. No sweet sentiment.

                The living room was quiet. Even Virgil, who fidgeted with the towel still in his hands, didn’t seem able to form the words necessary to clear the tension in the air. In the end, Logan smoothed front of his dress shirt and sighed.

                “This is a new development… and it requires thought.” He gave Patton a wary glance, seeing the way the smaller man trembled in Roman’s arms. He looked away before something could bubble up in his chest and make him wince. “It’s late. I’m tired. Virgil,” he looked to Virgil, seeing those gray eyes already trained on him. Attentive and sharp. Logan gave him a curt nod. “Enjoy your day at school.”

                Virgil blinked spastically. “Wha— that’s it?” Virgil waved his hand in the air flippantly as he spoke. “You just had a major breakthrough… and you’re saying… what? We should just go about our day like it was nothing?”

                Logan frowned. “That isn’t what I’m saying.” He walked to his bedroom door and lingered in the doorway as he said, “Annaliese – if it _is_ Annaliese, which is very likely – will not be active in the daytime. None of the disappearances have happened while the sun is out.”

                “Then shouldn’t we go after her at her most vulnerable?” Virgil asked, sounding irritatingly astute as he gestured to the sunlight peeking through the curtains. “I mean, if the sun is her weakness –”

                “It is also _mine_ ,” Logan said, a grim reminder of who and what he was. Virgil’s lips pressed together into a thin line, and he looked away. Embarrassed to be caught in his own forgetfulness? Or angry that his plan wasn’t failproof? Logan wasn’t sure. “I’ll be retiring for the day. Patton, please be sure to treat any clients normally. I don’t want your anxiety to put them on edge.”

                Patton stiffened and made a face. “M-my… right. Right, I will.”

                Roman, however, looked irritated by this order. “How can he _not_ be anxious? Emily’s sister is out and about doing…” he waved his hand vaguely. “ _Evil_ things!”

                “She won’t be for long,” Logan said as he pulled off his shoes and set them beneath his coffin. He knew Roman could hear him when he said, “We’re going to put a stop to this. Just like Emily.”

+++++

_Yorkshire, England– 1778_

_“Mother,” Logan said softly as he walked through the halls of their estate slowly. His mother walked next to him, her heavy dresses trailing elegantly across the stone floors. He looked up at here expectantly, seeing nothing but calm complacency in her expression. He frowned and ask, “How long is Lord Carron going to be staying with us?”_

_“I’m afraid I can’t say… he is a dear friend. It’d hate to send him away without reason.” Louise paused and gave Logan a considering smile. “Why do you ask?”_

_Logan fiddles with the lacey cuffs of his doublet. “I… I don’t like him.” He looked up at his mother through the fan of his eyelashes, seeing something…_ something _flicker in her eyes. Logan looked away. “He frightens me.”_

_Louise laughed, that soft, melodic laugh she always used when Logan said something silly. Putting a gentle arm around his shoulder, Louise steered him down the hall once more. “Oh, my darling… you needn’t fear Lord Carron. He is a good man.”_

_Logan squirmed under the statement. “He… he says odd things.”_

_“As some men do, my dearest.”_

_Louise led them to a sitting room, and Logan opened the door for her, seeing Lord Carron’s daughters sitting at a small table playing chess. Logan stiffened. That was his_ father’s _chess board. They didn’t ask if they could use it._

_Looking to his mother, Logan expected her to reprimand the girls. But she didn’t. She simply when to the large, oak desk where his father used to study and write, picked up her lacey, white fan, and smiled at the girls._

_“Having fun, children?” She asked, the vision of an aristocratic woman idly admiring youth. It made Logan’s stomach crawl._

_Where Annaliese shyly averted her gaze, Emily grinned and kicked her feet under the chair. “Oh, yes! This is so fun!” Emily’s eyes landed on Logan, and there was something dark and piercing in those green eyes. “Come play with us, Logan.”_

_Logan frowned. “Chess is a two-person game.” He gestured to Annaliese, who was studiously watching the oak board. “You already have a partner.”_

_Irritated, Emily turned to her sister and simply… waved her away. Logan watched with confused alarm as Emily said, “Go away, Anna. I want to play with Logan.”_

_Annaliese looked equally startled as she placed a hand on the board. “B-but… you said –”_

_“I changed my mind,” Emily cut her off with a shrug, tossing long, red hair over her shoulder as she smiled over at Logan. “Come, come! Playing with you will be much more fun than with Anna.”_

_While Logan hesitated in the doorway, he glanced at his mother for help. All he received was a tired, hazy smile. “Go on, love,” his mother said with that drugged smile. “It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.”_

_If that was the case, wasn’t it also rude to take a lady’s place at the board? Annaliese looked crushed by the dismissal. Logan almost felt sorry for her as he approached her chair. She looked up at him with watery, green eyes. Eyes that held no malice… only sadness. He pulled out her chair. Annaliese stood, uncertain in her own action, before she ducked her chin and wandered out of the room._

_“Good,” Emily said with a satisfied sigh. “She’s so_ boring _. I’m sure this game will be better,” Emily scratched her fingernail across the board as Logan sat down. And at closer inspection, he saw her nails leaving scratch marks on the wood. He grimaced at the sight, and Emily simply smiled. “Set the board, Mister Stein.”_

_Logan did. Under the watchful, sleepy gaze of his mother, he reset the board and sat back in his chair. Emily moved first. Logan was silent as he followed suit. Would it be rude to win? Emily moved a knight. Logan captured a pawn. His mother was watching… he wanted to make her proud. Emily growled as she took one of Logan’s pawns and threw it on the ground. A truly childish move. Logan glanced at his mother, but she didn’t react. She simply fanned herself with a smile, watching the board with absent eyes._

_“I’m going to win,” Emily said, though it wasn’t clear who she was speaking to… perhaps Logan. Perhaps herself. “I’m going to win.”_

_Logan moved his rook forward, capturing Emily’s last knight. Emily clenched her fists as Logan matter-of-factly said, “Check.”_

_Emily hesitated, searching the board for any kind of escape. There was none. She had been reckless through the entire game. Logan knew chess… he played with his mother often. He played before Lord Carron had invaded their home. He played because… well, it was the only thing he could do._

_Now, Emily looked furious. She seemed to be steaming in her chair, and when she found no escape from Logan’s inevitable win, she lifted her hand and swept the board from the table. The board clattered to the ground, the wood fracturing and splintering under the abuse._

_Logan raced to pick it up, saving the last few remnants of his father that he could. He glared up at Emily. “What is_ wrong _with you?”_

_Emily didn’t look at him. She simply stood from her chair and smoothed her dress. “I don’t like this game anymore.”_

_Then, without a care, she walked out of the room, snatching Annaliese’s hand where she stood in the hallway and dragging her away. Logan felt something hot and angry burn in his chest… something… unpleasant. He looked down at the board. Broken… fixable… but still broken. His father’s chess board. Lifting his eyes, he saw the vision of his mother tremble and wobble. He was crying. His mother said nothing. She had changed._

_“Mother,” he said in that shaky, breathless tone that preceded crying. “Mother…”_

_She was already gone. Following the girls down the hall as if Logan was nothing. As if Logan weren’t her son.  As if the chess board didn’t matter._

_As if her husband’s death meant nothing to her._

+++++

                Logan woke with a body of stone. He felt heavy… but not in a physical sense. Memories left concrete in the hollow of his bones. Regrets filled his limbs with sand. And a tear, hot and real, ran back over the ridge of his cheekbone and into his hair. He blinked slowly at the satin lining of his coffin, taking a moment to compose himself.

                A dream about his mother? Those rarely occurred. His mother was a dark stain on his memory… one that he prided himself in being able to ignore. He’d tried to scrub the memory away more than once. With alcohol. With drugs. With sex. He wanted to rid his mind of that damn stain. Out, out, damn spot… none of them worked, of course. They had provided temporary relief from the reality that the Carron family was alive and thriving.

                Pushing out of his coffin, he retrieved his glasses and put them on. The house was quiet. Uncharacteristically so. With the addition of Virgil to their small home, things had been, at the very least, lively. There was normally a murmur of conversation in the living room. Or, if Virgil was listening to something in his headphones, Patton would be at the stove, cooking something for him. Logan frowned. Where were they?

                A quick glance at the clock on his bookshelf told him it was nearly eleven o’clock. Patton couldn’t be out shopping… the stores were closed by now. And, even if they were open, he wouldn’t dare go out on a night that held a full moon. Still… Patton’s quietness – or possible absence – bothered Logan a bit less than _Virgil’s_ disappearance. He couldn’t smell Virgil’s rough, musky cologne. He didn’t hear the soft, almost inaudible thrum of his heartbeat.

                Something in the air struck a bad chord… one that lingered on the edge of malcontent and frantic worry. Logan wasn’t sure if it was in the air or just his own anxiety. Nor did he care to know.

                Slinking out of his room carefully, Logan stepped into the living room. Silence. Virgil’s arithmetic textbook still sat open and untouched on the coffee table. The kitchen was scrubbed clean. Not even Roman sat in his favorite chair, reading some drivel on Romanticism. The house was empty.

                Feeling the sensation of burning irritation cross his skin, Logan turned in a slow circle, trying to find anything out of place. A message of where they had gone… a note that they may have left. He searched Patton’s room, finding nothing of the sort on his nightstand or vanity. Even downstairs in the writing desk, there was no note or message.

                He fled upstairs once more, his uneasiness kicking up into frantic anxiety as he searched, wide-eyed and breathless, for any sign of his housemates. Patton would’ve said something if he was leaving. Roman couldn’t have gone far without him. Neither would stay out at night. Virgil… Virgil was an enigma. He may have gone back to the dorm. He may have been with someone else… a late-night tryst with a nameless face.

                Logan froze, feeling anger seep into his blood. Why was he upset by that? Why did he care who Virgil chose to bed? It wasn’t any of his business. It wasn’t any of his concern. He was worried for Virgil’s safety. That should have been his priority.

                Tearing through the papers and books on the coffee table, Logan flipped through pages and toss aside unimportant papers. Highlighters, notes, a page that was torn from the book… Logan paused. A small, compact mirror lay under Virgil’s textbook. It had small, pale fingerprints on the black surface. Some sort of makeup or concealer. Logan frowned. Had Virgil always wore makeup? Had he missed it? Or simply ignored it?

                Reaching for the compact, Logan, inhaled a different scent. The scent of decay. Flesh long after its prime. He grimaced and snatched up the compact. Annaliese had touched it. She’d placed it there on the table deliberately. It was a message. A sign that she could slip into his house, right under his nose, and steal away what he held dear.

                With a faint _click_ , Logan opened the compact and startled at the sight that met him. Roman was contained in the compact, his fists pounding at the back of the glass uselessly. Logan could hardly see him, he was just a vague suggestion of who he once was. This was an old kind of magic… one that Logan remembered his mother using. Now that he thought about it, Annaliese probably learned the technique from her first-hand.

                Ignoring the soundless – but still distracting – sight of Roman trying to cry for help, Logan _clicked_ the compact shut and brought it to the kitchen sink. Roman must’ve seen what happened. He must have been the first thing that Annaliese took care of. If Roman was out of the way… Patton and Virgil were easy targets. Both of them were harmless. Defenseless. Roman was their only chance to call for help. If he’d been free… Logan could have saved them.

                Logan grit his teeth as he ran the compact under hot water, watching the way the sleek, black surface began to steam and fog. He waited a moment… then retrieved a pitcher of cold water from the refrigerator, pouring it over the compact until he could hear the glass of the mirror _crack_ and shatter.

                Immediately, Roman appeared on the living room floor, drenched in the water that had covered the compact. He gasped for air, almost like a man who had nearly drowned… which was odd, because Roman didn’t even need to breathe. Logan set the pitcher aside as Roman trembled on his hands and knees, wide-eyed and in shock.

                Taking Roman’s shoulders, Logan tried to meet those wide, frightened eyes and anchor them. “Roman… you need to tell me what happened.”

                “Sh-she… I didn’t know…” Roman’s eyes darted around the living room like the surroundings were strange and unwelcome. He flinched when Logan shook him, and he blinked hard as he tried to gather himself. “They… they were… she was fast. Came through… and said… _something_.” He shook his head holding a hand to his brow as he fought to find the right words. “Whatever she said… I… I wasn’t myself. I felt… wrong. Different.”

                Logan narrowed his eyes. “She put you in the mirror.”

                “In and out… then in again,” Roman muttered breathlessly, “Like I was in my head… then not.” His hands shook as he lifted his head to meet Logan’s gaze, his eyes edging on frantic insanity. “Good god… what did she _do_ to me?”

                “A temporary curse. It’ll fade,” Logan said quickly. “But that’s not what matters. Where–”

                “Patton!” Roma interrupted as he reached out to shake Logan’s shoulder fretfully. His skin was still clammy from the water, and his sopping wet shirt dripped on Logan’s trousers, but he didn’t have the tongue to say anything as Roman cried, “Where is Patton? She took him! She _took_ him!”

                Logan’s mind stuttered to a startled stop. He’d _known_ that Patton and Virgil had been taken. He’d _known_ … so why was he still so shocked by this fact? Something in his chest snapped, and he felt sick to his stomach. Patton was a bit stronger than an average, living human. He _might_ be able to hold out against Annaliese for a moment or two. But Virgil… he was just a human. He had no secret, nether-imbued strengths.

                “Where?” Logan asked tersely, grabbing Roman’s shoulders and shaking him violently. Roman’s head snapped back, and he looked vaguely dizzy as he mumbled incomprehensibly. Logan grit his teeth and shook Roman again, gripping his trembling, half-corporeal frame. “ _Dammit_ , Roman. Tell me where she took them! Where did she go?”

                Roman blinked spastically, his eyes unseeing and hands shaking. “P-Patton… my… my Patton…”

                “Where?” Logan pressed, his jaw clenched and hands grasping like talons as Roman quivered before him. “Where are they?”

                “I don’t… I don’t know,” Roman sputtered, the last of his words coming out as a blubbering sob. “I don’t know! The car… what I could see in the window… went south. And then… then…” Roman cried, his body trembling until it collapsed in on itself.

                His corporeality dissolved, leaving Logan with nothing but a strange, ringing cry in the air.

                Logan steeled his nerves and raced down the stairs, throwing his coat on as he sauntered out the door. South was vague… Annaliese could have turned at any time. The path could twist and turn… but Logan was nothing if not sharp. He inhaled deeply, the soft scent of Virgil’s faint, musky cologne still lingering in the air. Logan narrowed his eyes and chased the scent. He could… no, he _would_ find them.

                Long ago, Lord Carron had stood over him, drenched in the blood of the innocent… and he’d said: ‘Pity not the monster in your hands… pity the man she hunts.’ Never were words more true. Annaliese was playing with fire, and Logan would be damned if he let her get away unscathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wiccans, Curses, and Ghouls, oh my!  
> I hope the boys are still in one piece... whenever they're found.
> 
> Research Assistance provided by the lovely and talented Olli. [ [Tumblr]](https://multifandomwierdo.tumblr.com/)  
> Thank you, sunshine! Your help was very much appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> See you next chapter.


	10. Chapter 9

_New York – 1831_

_The stiffness of muscles is most recognizable when in pain; the electric, fiery pain that burns down the spine... each muscle seizing and tending in preparation for imminent shock. Molten, aching pain. The kind that left Logan breathless. Speechless. For once... silent._

_Held to a metal bed with clasps of silver, his eyes were forced open with metal clamps. A torture so crude... so old... he could remember his mother telling him horror stories about it._

_Forced to stare into the sun until submission. The eyes burn until the vampire cannot see... and then they heal. But the cycle repeats. A rolling, untended river of black blood and pain until eventually... they gave in. Logan couldn’t afford the luxury of submission. Lord Carron wouldn’t give him mercy even if Logan begged for it._

_“This is for the best,” Lord Carron said as he stood in the shadows, watching Logan. The black blood on Logan’s face had dried… but now, new burns were peeling and breaking the skin again. He didn’t make any move to release the clamps. He simply watched, passive and compliant. “Maybe… when you are blind, you’ll see.”_

_See what? The cruelty of his fellow vampire? The counter-logic of his mother? There was nothing to see here… aside from the plan of a madman. Overthrow the human race with a legion of ghouls. That was a foolish dream. A high-stakes gamble that would inevitably end in disaster._

_But Logan couldn’t move. He simply lay beneath his restraints, staring up… watching the world blot out in black… burn and ache in a constant cycle. There was no one to save him. His mother was gone… killed by his own hands. There was no one else who knew he was here. No one but Lord Carron and his daughters… but Lord Carron and his daughters where not going to be the ones to set him free._

_Not until they got what they wanted._

+++++

                Breathing deep, Logan smelled just a faint whisper of Virgil’s cologne. Hardly there… but lingering in the air, saturating early fall with a hint of something warm and bitter. Logan clenched his jaw and turned to his right. He faltered; if he was simply caught on a scent on the wind, he could be going in the wrong direction. He needed to find them. He needed to find Virgil. Virgil, Virgil, Virgil… he was a dominant thought, these days. Why was that? Logan ignored that question in favor of running onward.

                He decided to go right, dodging the light of streetlamps and keeping to the backyards of the suburbs. The less people that saw him running around in the dead of night, the better. He didn’t need rumors flying… not when there were missing people and unsolved murders hanging in the air.

                Downtown hit him fast, with the heavy scent of oily foods in restaurants and rotting garbage in the alleys. He had no choice but to duck into the alleys when he saw pedestrians… late-night eaters and stumbling party-goers. He could shoulder past most of them, gritting his teeth and holding his breath when a woman with floral perfume got too close. He needed to focus on _Virgil’s_ scent… any other was a needless distraction.

                As he took a sharp left and held with the flow of traffic, he caught wind of something warm and earthy… clove. Or cinnamon. Possibly both. His steps stuttered to a stop outside a New Age Herbal Remedy shop. The front for Emile Picani’s alchemy shop, no doubt. He could see the protective smudges of crushed cinnamon along the doorway, and in the locked windows, he could see small pieces of clove lining the windowsill. Logan grimaced; if an _alchemist_ was on high-alert, Annaliese was more dangerous than he gave her credit. He set off in the direction of Virgil’s scent once more.

                What had _happened_ to Annaliese? Poor, sweet Annaliese had been demure and soft. Out of the madness that Lord Carron had brought to the Stein Manor… Annaliese was the only thing that kept Logan sane through most of it. She had been a friend amid the chaos. A gentle soul in the turmoil. When did that change?

                Even after Logan had killed Lord Carron… even after he killed Emily… Annaliese hadn’t resurfaced. She didn’t come back into his life with her soft smile and deep, thoughtful eyes. She simply vanished, all those years ago… had it really been back in 1799? Too much time had passed… too many details were left out. It didn’t make enough sense.

                But that shouldn’t matter… not at a time like this. He went down, down beneath the city and into the construction of industrial park on the city limits. Large machinery sat still and stationary, waiting for their next assignment in the morning. No workpeople walked the dirt grounds… not even an animal dared to scurry though the gravel and branches.

                Logan kept to the shadows, his hand ghosting over the cool, rusting metal of the machines around him. It had been a long time since he’d chased someone around… and, to his own surprise, it had winded him. So, catching his breath, he took off his glasses and wiped the lenses on the spare cloth in his coat. When he breathed deep, he could taste Virgil in the air. Warm. Real. More than just his cologne; there was the animal scent of sweat… and a smell that left Logan on edge. Metallic and briny… blood. Virgil had been hurt.

                Something… odd and primal took root in Logan’s chest. Like anger… but in a frantic, bubbling way. It left his stomach in twisted knots and his heart constricted painfully in his chest. An aching, violent fear. It fueled him as he stepped out of the shadows. It burned in him as he chased after Virgil’s scent, leading him to a large warehouse on the edge of the large construction lot. He felt the fear and anger drag on his skin, spark at his brain, pull at his heartstrings… he was _not_ a sentimental man.

                And yet. And _yet…_ Virgil made him feel so much.

                While tearing the steel padlock from the doors – it took longer than he expected – Logan could _swear_ he could hear Virgil’s breathing. Deep and ragged and afraid… was it Virgil? Or was Logan just listening to the sound of his own, frantic breaths? Logan didn’t stop to think as he shouldered his way through the large, heavy doors.

                The inside of the warehouse was dark. So dark, Logan ha to squint to see the outlines of the large, metal crates and stationary machines lining the walls. His eyes were failing him, just when he needed them most. His muscles tense and hyperaware of the space around him, Logan listened carefully.

                The soft, fluttering heartbeats of mice in the corners of the warehouse. A louder, incessant thud of a human heart, somewhere above him. Virgil, no doubt. Logan tensed, half-ready to jump to Virgil’s rescue if needed, only to hear the loud, metallic _clunk_ of a switch being pulled.

                Abruptly, the lights of the warehouse sputtered to life. Logan stumbled back and shielded his eyes, hissing at the sudden, burning light. The chains hanging from the ceiling chimed as they clattered together messily, ringing terribly loud in his ears as he struggled to find his footing. Lifting his head, he managed to catch a glimpse of something – _someone_ – suspended from one of those chains.

                Logan’s heart dropped to his stomach; it was Virgil. He was fighting the restraints with all he had, kicking and wriggling against the thick, frayed rope that bound his arms. A gag had been tied around his mouth, but Logan could easily hear Virgil’s strained, smothered shouts as he struggled.

                “It’s a pity,” a voice said from above. Logan wrenched his eyes from Virgil to see Annaliese standing at the top of a balcony on the far side of the warehouse. Her voice filled the air as she spoke like a commanding officer… but even so, her tone was soft. As if she didn’t have the conviction to really be upset. “To know a man as good as you could fall so far.”

                Logan stiffened at that. “I didn’t come here to be vaguely insulted, Annaliese.”

                Across the warehouse, Logan could see the way Annaliese kicked her foot back and forth… a childish display of uncertainty. “And I didn’t come here to insult you, Mr. Stein.”

                “Then explain to me why you would _do_ all of this,” Logan said as he took a careful step forward. He didn’t hadn’t seen Patton… nor had he heard him. But there was a chance that Annaliese knew _what_ he was. There was a chance she forced him to change. He needed to watch his step if they were all going to get out of his warehouse fully intact. Keeping his eyes on Annaliese, Logan took another hesitant step. “The ghouls, the murders… this isn’t you. It never was.”

                “Wasn’t it?” Annaliese asked, her voice strangely wobbly as she pivoted where she stood. Long, auburn hair fell over her shoulders… but it didn’t look quite right on her. She played with the curls, hear face downturned as she spoke. “It wasn’t, was it? I was… always the odd one out, wasn’t I? I…” Annaliese laughed a bit, but there was no humor. “I came to that realization not so long ago myself.”

                Logan narrowed his eyes as something flickered in his peripheral vision. “Oh? Did you now?”

                Annaliese turned to face him fully, and if his eyes had been better, he might’ve seen her smile. “I knew that Father loved Emily the most. He praised her. I envied her. Her courage, her tenacity… her strength.” There was an odd pause, and Annaliese leaned her hands against the railing of the balcony. “I always knew that I’d never live up to her.”

                “Emily was a verifiable lunatic,” Logan said evenly. “No sane person would want to live up to her expectation.”

                “No.” Annaliese sighed, and the sound echoed off the metallic walls eerily. “No! You don’t understand, Logan. She followed Father’s plan… but gave up halfway through. She drew you in. Waited for her own demise. She was laying the groundwork,” Annaliese seemed oddly at peace when she said, “She was preparing this… for me.”

                “You can’t possibly believe –”

                “Yes, I do,” Annaliese cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I came to this realization not long ago. Father’s plan would put our race on the top, where we belong. Father’s plan would rebuild the world for us. For _us,_ Logan.”

                “Stop! Enough, Annaliese! Don’t you hear yourself?” Logan gestured to the abandoned warehouse wildly. Again, something on his right side flickered, but it didn’t get any closer. He ignored it. “This is madness! We were friends, once. Do you even remember? Do you remember how terrible your father was? What he _did_ to us?”

                Annaliese nodded and murmured, “I do,” but didn’t seem moved.

                “Then what _is_ this?” Logan shouted as he pointed at Virgil. The poor boy had been watching the interaction with suspicious eyes, but as soon as attention was turned to him, he kicked and fought his bindings. “This is _madness_ , Annaliese! He’s a human being! A human who has done _nothing_ to deserve this!”

                Heaving a long, dramatic sigh, Emily leaned heavily on the railing. “Logan… I used to think like you. I used to be… _submissive_ … to the rules of this world. But… I’ve realized something. We don’t have to stay like this. This world could be better. This world could be _ours_.” She paused, and Logan felt a chill race down his spine when she said, “Father was right.”

                “Your father was insane,” Logan growled, his hands fisted and shaking.

                “My father was a _genius!_ ” Annaliese screeched, her voice ringing like the cry of a banshee on the wind. Logan winced at the tone but didn’t back down. Annaliese took a second to collect herself, smoothing a hand down the front of her white blouse. “And I pity you for not being able to see it.”

                “ _You_ pity _me_? My, how the tables have turned,” Logan droned sarcastically. Annaliese made a face, but Logan couldn’t see it. Not from that distance. “So… you planned to finish out his legacy? Complete his plan?”

                “Yes. Of course,” said Annaliese, as if it were obvious. “I’ll make my father proud. Even if I have to depend on creatures like… this.”

                Reaching down, Annaliese took hold of a large sack she’d left on the floor at her feet. Logan felt his stomach heave when she carelessly tossed the body-sized sack down onto the dirt floor below. It hit the ground with an earthly _thud_ that was accompanied by a sickening _crunch_. Muscle and bone colliding. The creature in the bag didn’t move. It didn’t even whine. Logan grit his teeth. It was Patton. It had to be. He was probably unconscious… which was lucky for him. The fall sounded painful.

                Another flicker, and Logan glanced over to see Roman edging around the crates, peering through them and gaping at the sight of the sack in the middle of the floor. Did he know it was Patton? Probably. He had been looking for Patton since the whole mess began. The poor man looked like me might die all over again at the sight of the bag on the floor… and they didn’t even know if Patton was still alive.

                “He was _brilliant_ , Logan. How could we not see it?” Annaliese said, her voice sounding so earnest, so _adamant_ , Logan almost wanted to believe her. She hugged her arms around herself, looking oddly small where she stood, towering over them. “With ghouls, we don’t have to dirty our hands. If the humans try to mow them down, we are none the worse for wear.” She paused, and Logan swore he could almost see her smile. “They are the perfect shield; the perfect disposable weapon.”

                He held firm, glancing at the high ceilings and smooth walls. There was no way to get closer to her aside form climbing the stairs at her feet. By then, she’d be able to tear him to shreds. He was out of his league… especially for a man who’d only been drinking coagulated blood for one hundred years.

                Annaliese didn’t notice his trepidation – or, if she did, she made no move to acknowledge it – and she smoothed her hand along the length of the railing calmly. “I was quiet for so many years… I know that silence is what drove Father away. But… I’m going to change that. I’m going to make him proud.”

                Logan felt his fingernails bite into the skin of his palms as he shouted, “Your father is _dead_ , Annaliese!”

                Unwavering and calm, Annaliese sighed. “I _will_ show him that I am worthy of his praise.”

                “He’s dead, Annaliese. He’s gone!” Logan pressed, his hands shaking as he struggled to find a way to let Virgil down without simply dropping him three stories onto the ground. There was none. None but the control panel behind Annaliese, and she showed no sign of moving. Logan clenched his jaw and growled, low and furious before shouting, “Dammit, Annaliese… you’re insane. Just like Emily. Just like your father!”

                “Oh, Logan… such a charmer, as always,” Annaliese droned with a coy tilt of her head. She drummed her fingernails against the metal railing, and Logan could hear the tinkling of the metal ringing far across the warehouse. “It makes me sad to see you this way… playing house with humans. Keeping a ghoul as a pet.”

                Abruptly, Roman burst forward from the crates, making his presence known as he shouted,” You cursed witch! My Patton is no pet!”

                Annaliese took a step back, and Logan narrowed his eyes. She’d been caught by surprise. Did she think he wouldn’t find Roman? Did she really think Logan would leave him in the mirror? His surprise only grew when the sack on the floor wriggled and let out a faint, frightened, “Roman?”

                “Patton!” Roman cried, dashing for the far side of the warehouse without thought. He flickered in an out of corporeality, barely keeping his hold reality as he ran. “Patton, my darling!”

                Annaliese looked more disturbed than anything as she took another step back. “What… what _is_ this?” Roman was at the back and tearing it open, revealing a ruffled and distraught Patton. His clothes were slightly torn and there was blood on his face. Logan could only wonder if it was Patton’s… or someone else’s. Annaliese made a face when Roman and Patton embraced. “He… he is a _monster_. And you… you’re just a temporary spirit. A poltergeist.”

                “Ugh,” Roman groaned. “I _hate_ when stupid people try to describe my existence.”

                Logan couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up in his throat. Roman was hardly a threat to Annaliese… and yet, he said such obnoxious things. Perhaps that’s what Logan liked most about him. He was a bold man in the face of adversity. Annaliese, however, was less than amused.

                She didn’t speak as she touched one button on the control panel behind her. A deafening shriek echoed through the warehouse, and Logan flinched and covered his ears, searching for the source of the sound. Glancing up, he saw Virgil kicking wildly with his eyes scrunched tight. He couldn’t cover his ears with his arms bound.

                When the sound of grinding metal grated his eardrums, Logan turned to see the large doors of the warehouse opening. His stomach twisted as silvery moonlight illuminated the warehouse. He pivoted quickly, seeing the way Patton scrambled back and away from the light, skittering across the floor while Roman attempted to help him to his feet.

                “No! No, no, no…” Patton’s voice trembled as he pushed himself up and into Roman’s arms, shielding himself from the moonlight. “Please, no!”

                “Embrace what you are,” Annaliese said, her tone dripping with distain that had no place being on her tongue. Logan shrugged out of his jacket as Annaliese descended the stairs and headed for Patton. “Hiding what you are is futile. You should be… obedient.”

                Patton shrunk away from Annaliese, and even from a distance, Logan swore he could see the shaking of his legs. If he wasn’t careful, it looked like he was a breath away from collapsing in Roman’s arms. Roman held him up, valiantly trying to act as the shield while Patton backed away, trying to avoid the ever-widening stripe of moonlight.

                If Patton were to change – Logan was hesitant to think of it – but _if_ he were to change, he would be able to hold Annaliese off… if just for a moment. That gave Logan time… perhaps even just a few, precious seconds. But it would allow him to free Virgil.

                Taking advantage of Annaliese’s distraction, Logan threw his jacket toward where Roman and Patton were currently cowering. Even when he turned his back and ran for Virgil, he could hear Roman acknowledge the jacket and pick it up. Patton would cover himself. He’d be fine. Virgil was the one truly in danger.

                Running for the side of the warehouse, Logan could hear the voice of reason in his head; even at his best, Logan knew he wouldn’t be able to make a thirty-meter vertical jump. He’d never be able to reach Virgil. Not that high. Not that far. His mind was a blur, watching the way Virgil valiantly kicked and struggled, huffing and puffing against the gag in his mouth.

                Logan had precious little time. Annaliese could turn her back on Roman and Patton. Roman wouldn’t subject himself to the pain of Annaliese’s lashing… he could disappear. Patton would be so lucky. That window of opportunity was small. Perhaps even too small.

                Throwing that knowledge to the wind, Logan ran to the wall nearest Virgil, using his momentum to clamber as high up the wall as he could. Once there, he grabbed a supporting beam of the rafters. He caught his breath; now it was simply a twenty-meter horizontal jump. Still too far for a man who hadn’t really exercised in one hundred years.

                Just as that thought crossed his mind, Virgil glanced in his direction. His eyes were wide. Terrified. Filled with panicked, frantic tears. Logan’s chest constricted, and he jumped.

                “You are _still_ defending him? This is ridiculous!” Annaliese shouted from the balcony.

                Too late to turn back, Logan felt his stomach drop as Annaliese’s hand slammed against the control panel. There was a metallic clang in the chain that held Virgil, and as Logan grasped the cold, smooth metal of the reel that held Virgil’s chain, the lock unclasped. And Virgil started to drop.

                Virgil screamed against the gag, the tears on his face rolling up into his hair as he plummeted three stories down. Time went in slow motion, slowing the events down in a cinematic rendition of Virgil’s death. It would be hardly two seconds before he’d hit the ground. Logan’s heart went with him, dropping down, down, down… Logan didn’t think. He moved.

                He jammed his hand into the reel, letting out a howl of pain as the gears ground down on bone and muscle. Pain flared and burned up his arm until he couldn’t feel anything anymore… just a numbness that spread up his arm and into his spine. The reel _clicked_ … then stopped. At the end of the chain, Virgil shouted at the impact of the rope pulling and jerking him to a stop. He swung lazily just a few feet from the ground, his breathing still ragged and desperate as adrenaline surged through his system.

                Logan felt his body shake as he caught his breath, watching with wide eyes as black blood oozed over his wrist and arms, dripping thick and viscous as it stained his clothes. It was so surreal to see. Almost as if it wasn’t _his_ hand that was currently crushed in the reel. He didn’t get any time to sit in awe. Annaliese was busy fiddling with the control panel. Quickly, she found the button to put the reel in reverse.

                Virgil started to ascend… but it was slow. Not nearly fast enough to make him hit the ceiling and kill him. Logan pulled his hand from the reel, closing his eyes against the sight of quickly mending bone and flesh. The benefits of being a vampire did _not_ outweigh the pain. That trick would only work once.

                Grasping the chain with his good hand, Logan let himself slide down the length until he was face-to-face with Virgil. The poor boy startled at his appearance, trying to speak around the gag. Logan couldn’t let go of the chain to undo the gag with his good hand… so he leaned in and bit down on the cloth with his fangs. It took a bit of chewing, and he could feel the dampness of Virgil’s tears smearing against his cheek as he worked, but he managed to tear the cloth from Virgil’s mouth.

                As soon as he did, Virgil was spitting venom.

                “You stupid son of a bitch!” Virgil wheezed as he fought his restraints. “Your hand! Your –” he paused, looked down at Logan’s bloody, mangled hand, and turned a little green. “Holy hell, your _hand_ …”

                “I know,” Logan breathed, astounded by the gravely and ragged sound of his own voice. It sounded like he’d screamed… had had screamed when his hand was crushed? He couldn’t recall. He shook that thought away. “I know. Are you hurt?”

                Virgil baulked. “Am I…? No. No, I’m not hurt, you jackass!” That was a lie. Logan could see dried blood on Virgil’s forehead. It wasn’t fresh… but it was significant. He’d have to check it later.

                “Why… why are you _yelling_ at me?” Logan sputtered as he fumbled with the knot on Virgil’s restraints. His bad hand wasn’t fully healed… the skin was still raw… bones needed to full mend first… the more the pulled, the longer it would take to heal. He glared at Virgil. “I saved your life!”

                “You turned your hand into ground meat!” Virgil shrieked as he kicked Logan’s dangling legs. “Jesus _Christ_ … you… you crazy mother fucker!”

                “Stop that or I’ll fall,” Logan growled as the chain _clicked,_ pulling them up toward the ceiling link by link. If he untied Virgil now, he’d still fall and get hurt. He stopped pulling at the ropes and glanced down at the balcony. Annaliese was staring up at him, a look of distain on her face. No… Logan looked closer. Not distain… something else. Like sadness. Or regret.

                “Hey. _Hey_ ,” Virgil pressed, catching Logan’s eye as he spoke. His tone was shaky, but his eyes were level. An odd combination that left Logan feeling unsure. Virgil held his stare as he said, “Go take care of Pat. I’m okay, I promise.”

                Logan’s brow furrowed, and he glanced down at the warehouse floor where Patton was cowering in the safe shadow of a crate. He had Logan’s jacket held over his head, and Roman fought to keep himself corporeal in the pure moonlight. A human shield… but how long could Roman hold out? Annaliese was heading for them. He couldn’t stay corporeal forever. Logan glanced back at Virgil, torn between doing what he _wanted_ to do… and what he _had_ to do. Virgil gave him one of those small, sideways smiles.

                “I’m okay. Just go,” Virgil murmured as the reel came to a clinking, shuddering stop. Virgil and Logan looked down to the control panel. Annaliese was busy stalking toward Roman and Patton. The panel had been crushed beneath the hands of a vampire scorned, making it unusable. Virgil was safe from falling to his death. Virgil let out a sigh of relief. “Look. She’s not gonna touch the button. I’m fine now.”

                “That’s not true,” Logan grumbled, “That is _very_ far from the truth.”

                “Seriously,” Virgil said insistently. “Even if you get me down from here, if Pat changes into a ghoul… he’ll rip me apart. Take care of him first.”

                Letting his grip loosen on the chain, and he dropped to the floor of the warehouse. A three story drop was nothing to sniff at, either. He crumpled as soon as he made impact, feeling the shock burst through his knees and up into his lower back.

                “Logan!” Virgil shouted down to him, sounding horrified. “Are you okay? Hey! Say something so I know you’re okay!”

                While Logan tried to keep from getting dirt on his healing hand, he slowly and shakily pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I’m… fine…” Something in his knee _popped_ and _cracked_ , and Logan winced. “My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

                “Oh, my… is old age getting to you, Mr. Stein?” Annaliese asked from across the warehouse. Logan was still struggling to get to his feet… even his healing was slower than it used to be. There was a curious amusement in Annaliese’s voice as she wondered, “Perhaps you’re not eating a balanced diet.”

                That was true… he hadn’t had a fresh meal in years. Still, that fact irritated him. “You shut your mouth,” he growled as he lifted his head to glare at her.

                He froze when he saw what was in her hand; Roman’s neck. She held him up like a lifeless ragdoll, even though he spat and hissed and kicked like a wild animal. He was nothing. He was just a wraith. He was no threat to her. As if to agree with that fact, Annaliese threw Roman against the side of the warehouse, not bothering to watch as he disintegrated into a pile of smoking dust.

                Still cowering in the shadow of the crate, Patton let out a wounded cry at the sight. Immediately, he was up and running to the place where roman had last been, sifting through the dust as if he could somehow bring him back from the void. “Roman!” He screamed, and Logan could hear the tears in his voice. “Roman! No… n-no, Roman!”

                Logan felt his bones ache as he stood, watching the way Annaliese admired Patton’s inner turmoil. She looked not quite content, but… more at peace with the sight. As if watching Patton’s world crumble was a serene vision. Logan didn’t see the serenity… he saw raw, true facts.

                Roman was gone… and Patton was kneeling in direct moonlight.

                Even as he cried, the sounds began to turn animal and gravelly. Annaliese took a few steps back, watching Patton change with avid fascination. The _snap_ and twist of his bones… the elongating of his teeth and the sharpening of his fingernails… a gaunt, pale rendition of an old friend. Death incarnate.

                It wasn’t the first time Logan had seen Patton’s true form… and surely, it wouldn’t be the last. But it only brought on new predicaments; the doors of the warehouse were wide open. He couldn’t let Patton escape. He could cause havoc in the city, even in the dead of night. He couldn’t close the doors… the panel had been crushed. And, he couldn’t focus all his attention on Patton… he needed to deal with Annaliese.

                Decisions, decisions… Logan wavered in his own certainty, watching with interest as Patton, in all his ghoul glory, turned to see Annaliese. She didn’t run… but she didn’t goad him toward Logan, either. For all her talk of adopting her father’s plan and becoming like her elder sister, she certainly wasn’t acting the part.

                He watched with interest as Patton lunged thoughtlessly at her, swiping a monstrous, clawed hand at her face. He missed by a longshot when Annaliese leapt back and out of the way. She gripped Patton’s wrist as he followed-through, and with a tired sigh, she threw him carelessly across the warehouse. Straight toward Logan.

                “Look out!” Virgil shouted, not that Logan needed the warning.

                Quick on his feet – not as quick as he’d like – he leapt out of the way, tucking and rolling into the shadows as Patton hit the ground with an animal cry. He rolled a bit, coming to a stop in those damned open doors, and for a moment, Logan felt sick at the thought of Patton trying to run. But, oddly enough, he didn’t. He pushed off the ground, growling and snarling as he tore at the dirt floor restlessly.

                Logan stood by in the shadows, cradling his crushed left hand to his chest while he straightened his glasses with his right. He had precious little time to figure out what to do… and there was very little he _could_ do.

                Throwing caution to the wind, Logan leapt through the shadows, racing for the far side of the warehouse where Annaliese stood tall and proud. She saw him coming, of course. Her eyes hadn’t been ruined all those years ago. She sidestepped him, and Logan barely had time to catch his footing before Annaliese was on him.

                Hands caught his shoulders, gripping with piercing fingernails as she dragged him back to the wall. He fought. He used everything he had. He used his good hand to grasp her throat and squeeze. She didn’t even seem fazed. If anything, she looked irritated.

                He hit the wall hard, his skull colliding with cool metal roughly as he tried to scratch his way out of Annaliese’s grip. It was no use. Compared to her, he was just like a ghoul. Useless and feeble in comparison. Was this his reward for thinking he was strong enough to stop her? For thinking she would come peacefully and quietly? It was a cruel kind of perfect.

                She held him there for a moment, and in that brief window of quiet, she murmured, “What’s the point of keeping the human around if you can’t have a decent meal?”

                Feeling his stomach twist, Logan spat in her face. She winced and wiped the spit from her cheek but didn’t release him. Even with one hand holding him to the wall, she wasn’t bothered by his attempts to attack her. Patton started to charge, bounding forward on his hands and feet in hot pursuit of Annaliese and Logan. Logan’s chest ached at the sight, and he idly wondered that, if he were to die – by Patton or Annaliese’s hand – who would set Virgil free? Would he even be allowed to live?

                Annaliese spoke quickly, her words short and barbed as she leaned in close to whisper, “You could have been part of a better world, Logan. A world where _we_ are better. Where we are _served_. Where no one can hurt us.”

                Hardly aware of himself, Logan growled, “You are the last person I want to hear that from.”

                Annaliese smiled, soft and sweet, like when they were young. Before the pain. Before her father. Before the ghouls… and she let him go, stepping aside to make way for Patton. Large claws came raining down on him, and Logan didn’t have any time to lift his hands to defend himself.

                The pain seared, hot and real as Patton’s claws tore through his shoulder and down his chest. A little farther to the right, and he might’ve taken Logan’s head off. When Patton stumbled back, growling and rasping, Logan darted back into the shadows, barely able to keep himself upright as torn flesh and muscle started to mend itself.

                Annaliese. Where was Annaliese? His eyes darted to the side, his vision blurry and spotted. Blood. It was blood on the lenses of his glasses. He wiped at it frantically, trying to regain some semblance of control as he leapt out of Patton’s reach.

                “Patton! This way!” A familiar voice called from across the warehouse. Logan’s head snapped up to see Roman waving his arms wildly, eager to get Patton’s attention. It worked. Patton raced toward him, jaw snapping and teeth bared. He raised a hand to slash Roman in half, but Roman disappeared, flickering back into corporeality behind Patton with a grin. “Too slow, darling. Try again.”

                Logan winced at the deadly game of tag, still struggling to catch his breath as his skin melded back together. He looked up, seeing Virgil dangling tiredly from the rafters on his left. He turned to see Annaliese on his right, watching him from the wide open doorway. Her outline was a sliver of silver moonlight, like the burning of an odd halo of the angel she used to be. Nothing was said. She slipped back, out of the doorway, and into the dead of the construction site.

                Out of his grasp once more.

                Feeling his body reign itself to frustrated exhaustion, Logan’s knees buckled. If not for a quick hand on the metal crates next to him, he would’ve hit the ground. Above him, Virgil kicked his feet and rattled the chains.

                “Hey! Are you okay?” He sounded tired… ragged, and afraid. Logan could sympathize. “Logan, are you okay?”

                “Yes,” Logan said shakily, barely able to hold himself up as he grasped the dangling end of Virgil’s chain. If he pulled just right, he could let Virgil down and take him away from the warehouse. However… Logan glanced over to where Roman was still dodging Patton’s attempts to attack him. “Roman, will you…”

                “I’ve got this!” Roman said in an oddly cheerful tone. “It’s like playing with a puppy! A big… dangerous… murderous puppy.” He flickered out of sight just before Patton had a chance to bite into him, and he reappeared with a strained smile. “I’ll bring him home in the morning, when he’s… better. Just get Virgil out of here.”

                Nodding briskly, Logan slowly pulled the jammed chain toward the ground. Virgil was lowered slowly, and the noise wasn’t enough to draw Patton’s attention away from Roman’s disappearing act. The closer Virgil got to the ground, however, the more anxious he became.

                “Wait, we’re… we’re just gonna leave him here?” He asked, watching Patton claw the metal crates and kick up the dirt. He winced when Patton hit the wall and whined like a wounded dog. “He… won’t he hurt someone? Or himself?”

                “Roman will watch him,” Logan said tiredly, careful of his nearly fully healed left hand. Blood still caked the skin and scars were still healing, but he could at least grip the chain without issue.

                Once Virgil was in arms reach, he looped an arm under Virgil’s legs and used the other to undo the knot of ropes around his arms. Virgil was quiet, staring at Patton and Roman’s strange dance as Logan worked. When the knot was undone, Virgil stood and gave his arms an experimental stretch.

                “Now what?” Virgil asked, his tone more irritated than curious as he looked up at Logan. Their eyes met. Steely gray on deep blue. Logan sighed.

                “Now we go home… and wait for morning.”

+++++

_New York – 1831_

_A heavy hand sat on Logan’s shoulder, steering him forward through a house that he didn’t recognize. The dazzling crystal chandelier over him smoked and shimmered, swaying just a bit with the breeze that came from an unknown source. The Carron House was a foreign place to Logan… even if he’d been held in the attic for days, tortured until he was forced to give in._

_“How are your eyes, my boy?” Lord Carron asked, as if he even cared. Logan didn’t reply. He saw the world through a hazy, half-visible blur now. His eyes weren’t getting any better. Perhaps they never would. Carron led him to a balcony where they could overlook the subtle glow of the city below them. Carron let out a satisfied sigh. “Look at it, Logan. The world is ours to claim.”_

_“Ours,” Logan repeated numbly. He couldn’t even tell which lights were real and which were just hazy bits of sunlight ingrained in his corneas. He watched the vague outline of Lord Carron, eyeing the way he leaned one elbow against the balcony as he turned to smile – or perhaps grimace – at Logan._

_“Follow in my footsteps, boy, and the world will be at our feet,” Carron said with a sharp grin. At least, Logan assumed it was a grin. He really couldn’t tell. He stood by the double doors of the balcony quietly, not bothering to respond as Carron laced his hands together. “Once the human race falls, nether creatures will rise. We will take our place in this world… a world that should have been ours long ago.” Logan didn’t move, and Carron turned to give him a long look before he said, “And you, Logan, can have anything you want.”_

_Logan perked up at that, hazily meeting Carron’s eyes. “Anything I…?”_

_“Anything you want,” Carron repeated with a low, serious tone. He sounded so sure… so adamant… Logan almost wanted to believe him. “A fresh meal any time you like. Human riches… or dark magic. Women and debauchery. Whatever you like.” He paused, then stressed, “As long as you follow in my footsteps.”_

_“Anything I want…” Logan murmured softly, stepping forward to place his hands on the balcony. He looked out over a misty New York night, tired and defeated in more ways than one. All he had to do was become a man like Lord Carron. All he had to do… was become a monstrous type of person. The worst kind of man. He turned to Carron with a numb smile. “I could… have anything?”_

_“Anything, my boy.” Carron slapped Logan’s shoulder playfully. A gesture of trust. A show of mercy. Logan almost wanted to cry. “Anything at all.”_

_Logan’s left hand moved faster than the flicker of a flame on metal, a sharp slash of fingernails and brute force. Carron’s neck was gashed open and black blood flowed freely under Logan’s fingers as he drew back his right hand. Carron startled, trying to defend himself, but Logan didn’t give him the chance. His right hand shot forward, stabbing through Carron’s chest and grasping the shell of his vampiric heart._

_Logan whispered in a low, desperate tone, “All I wanted… was my mother back, you son of a bitch.”_

_Carron, gagging on the thick, black tar of blood, managed to cough a laugh. One last sound of defiance. Disgrace in the face of Logan’s loss. Bitter and calloused, like Logan hadn’t quite won. Pulling his hand away from Carron’s chest, Logan left a gaping hole in its wake, looking down at the crumbled, dead figure of the man who stole his mother… and so much more._

_A soft whisper of fabric caught Logan’s attention, and he turned back to the double doors. A girl in a long, billowing nightgown stood in the doorway, looking down at her father with an unreadable expression. The long, red hair was unmistakable._

_“Emily,” Logan breathed, his voice ragged and tired. Emily lifted her face to look at him, and Logan couldn’t see what expression she was making. She loved her father most… she was most likely furious. Bracing himself for an imminent attack, Logan caught his breath as Emily took one step forward._

_Just as the cold breeze ruffled Logan’s hair and swept up Emily’s nightgown, she jumped… not onto Logan. Unto the balcony. Logan stumbled to the side, turning to see Emily standing, poised and collected on the railing. His stomach twisted… she wasn’t going to attack him._

_She was going to run._

_“Stop!” He shouted, grabbing for her wildly._

_It was no use. She easily jumped out of his way, sailing down through the air and onto the patio below. With one last glance up at him – and her father – Emily turned on her heel… and ran from their grand estate. Logan would’ve followed if he wasn’t so tired. He’d only just been allowed out of the attic… only just been freed from his torture. He was in no state to chase Emily through New York._

_Instead, he watched her run, the long, curling plume of her hair bright against the dark of night. She darted into the trees, melting into the darkness so perfectly, Logan could’ve imagined it. But he hadn’t. She was running for a reason; she’d believed in her father’s plan wholeheartedly. If_ he _wasn’t going to finish it… Emily would._

_Logan just hoped he could find her again before she made that plan a reality._

+++++

                Virgil sat in the living room quietly, stewing in some sort of brooding thought as Logan washed the blood from his hands and skin in the kitchen sink. It was late. Virgil would’ve normally gone to bed by then, wouldn’t he? Yet… he sat awake, silent and brooding.

                Though it felt preposterous, Logan couldn’t help but feel that the damp attitude was being directed at _him_.

                Wiping his hands on a dishtowel, Logan studiously avoided looking Virgil in the eye as he crossed the living room. He offered him the towel to wipe the blood from his forehead, but Virgil refused with a shake of his head. Logan quirked an eyebrow at the nonverbal response, but didn’t mention it as he set the towel aside.

                “Patton and Logan should be back soon after daybreak,” Logan said softly as he unbuttoned his torn and bloody dress shirt. He started toward his room with a sigh. “Hopefully, they can avoid the morning traffic and –”

                “Oh, _shut up_ ,” Virgil snapped.

                Logan blinked and turned, giving Virgil an interested look over the frames of his glasses. It was the first time Virgil had spoken since they’d gotten home… and he was _angry_? At _Logan_?

                “I beg your pardon?” Logan asked, his hands paused midway through the buttons on his shirt.

From the sofa, Virgil glared at him. The blood on his face made him almost look dangerous as he spat, “You heard me. _Shut_. _Up_.”

“This… why…” Logan shook his head with a flabbergasted huff. “Why are you angry at _me_?”

“Gee. I dunno. Maybe it’s the thing you did with your hand,” Virgil shrugged as he stood up and started to stalk the living room. Logan could feel electricity in the air, and where he used to enjoy their little spats… the spark of disagreement, the excitement of debate… _this_ was not enjoyable. Virgil waved his hands in the air as he said, “Or _maybe_ it’s the fact that you’re just… I dunno… _ignoring_ the fact that you could have died a half hour ago!”

                Logan made a face. “You… you’re upset that I came to find you?”

                Virgil groaned and stomped his foot. “No, you fucking moron! I’m mad about the _way_ you found us and how you… you…” he waved his hand flippantly. “Dealt with the crazy lady!”

                Logan felt a twinge in his chest as he jumped to his own defense. “I was _trying_ to help you!”

                “And you got your hand crushed!” Virgil shouted angrily, the fire flickering in his eyes. If this were anyone else, Logan would’ve thrown them out a window. Virgil crossed his arms and huffed, “What if you couldn’t heal fast? That amount of blood loss could _kill_ a normal person!”

                “I’m… I’m _not_ a normal person! I am a vampire,” Logan said irritably, his voice a low, stern growl as he stepped forward to crowd Virgil’s space. Virgil gave him an unimpressed roll of his eyes.

                “Yeah, yeah, I’m not afraid of you.”

                Logan stumbled back a step, unaware of his attempted intimidation. “Wha – I’m not… Virgil, why would I want to _hurt_ you?” Virgil’s eyes flickered to him, and Logan was hardly able to contain his frustration as he shouted, “I just saved your life!”

                Virgil stomped his foot again and shouted, “I didn’t ask you to do me any favors!”

                Logan pulled at his hair angrily as he let out a furious growl. “Agh! You are _infuriating!_ ”

                “ _I’m_ infuriating?” Virgil asked, his voice just as stern as he yelled, “Which one of us had to go and sacrifice himself to be a martyr?”

                Feeling a primal, burning impulse rise in his stomach, Logan growled and grasped the front of Virgil’s blood-stained hoodie and pulled him close. Virgil gasped in surprise, and for a moment, Logan saw a flicker of uncertainty in those eyes. He was held a breath away for just a fraction of a second, their eyes meeting just once… before Logan leaned in and stole a kiss he didn’t know he’d been craving.

                It was warm… warm as human lips could be, he supposed. Virgil stiffened against him, a breath caught in his lungs as Logan kissed him. It was just a second. Just a kiss. Even so, Logan swore he could feel Virgil kissing him back, even as he stepped back.

                Virgil stared at him, wide-eyed and in shock as Logan cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his own mouth. The warmth still lingered. The taste of Virgil’s lips… the scent of sweat and blood and the smell that was just… so… _Virgil_. It almost burned. Logan adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat once more.

                “I’m sorry, I… that was wildly inappropriate and I –”

                “Hell no,” Virgil breathed. Logan’s eyes flickered over to him, curious and confused, and Virgil stepped forward, his hands reaching up to grasp Logan’s hair. “You don’t just get to do that and walk away.”

                Logan narrowed his eyes. “Oh?”

                Virgil dragged him down, their lips barely brushing as he whispered, “I am _so_ fucking mad at you.”

                “I have no intention of apologizing for saving your life,” Logan murmured in response, his hands cautiously coming to rest on Virgil’s hips.

                “You could’ve died,” Virgil said, his brow furrowing as he tugged Logan’s hair lightly. “She could’ve killed you.”

                “People die,” said Logan. “It happens every day.”

                “Not to you,” Virgil said certainly. Logan met his eyes, and there was a strange, swirling heat to Virgil’s as he said, “Not to you.”

                Giving into his initial impulse, Logan kissed Virgil again, eager and hungry for that connection. Virgil kissed him back with vigor, his fingers tangled in Logan’s hair sliding down to the nape of his neck and pulling at his collar. Logan chuckled at the enthusiasm; Virgil was a young man in his sexual prime, ready and able to give and receive whatever he wished. Logan was more than happy to give and take in return.

                He kissed Virgil deeply, his hands sliding up and under the hem of Virgil’s hoodie and shirt to touch bare skin. Virgil gasped at the coldness of his hands, aching against Logan to escape the chill. Logan smiled and ducked his chin to kiss along Virgil’s neck. The pressure point of his pulse was thrumming, just the beginning of excitement, the flurry of anticipation. Logan moaned and kissed that spot once more, reveling in the way Virgil gasped and whined.

                “H-hey… careful,” Virgil warned with a breathless, humored laugh. Logan smiled against the line of Virgil’s jaw, pivoting his head to kiss Virgil once more. Virgil broke that kiss to catch his breath and whisper, “ _Fuck_ … you have… no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

                Logan quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? I had no idea.”

                “Pssh, whatever.” Virgil rolled his eyes, paused, then gave Logan a coy smile. “Wait, you… really didn’t know.”

                Logan hummed and kissed the line of Virgil’s jaw, giving his earlobe a soft bite. Virgil jumped at the nip, his breath catching in a way that made Logan’s mind race. “Not at all,” he whispered into Virgil’s ear. “I didn’t even understand my own feelings,” Logan murmured as he slid his hands out from beneath Virgil’s shirt to reach down and grip the backside of Virgil’s thighs. “But… I think I have a firm grasp on them now.”

                Virgil was practically trembling as he melted in Logan’s hands. “S-smartass,” he grumbled half-heartedly. “Don’t…” he grabbed Logan’s hair and forced their eyes to meet. “Don’t dance around it. You know what I want.”

                Logan narrowed his eyes with a small smile. Virgil wanted pleasure. He wanted Logan. He wanted many things… and all of those things, Logan was happy to give.

                They didn’t think; they simply moved.

                Throwing the door open to his bedroom, Logan dragged Virgil through the doorway, hearing the unorganized fumble of Virgil’s steps as he stumbled into Logan’s arms. The door was kicked shut, by Logan or by Virgil... he wasn’t sure. Something different had taken root in his mind. A thoughtless, desire-driven entity and made Logan hungry in a way he’d learned to repress for centuries.

                Virgil had unwittingly poked a beast... and by god, did Logan want to let it run wild.

                His hands — much stronger and far more capable than Virgil’s — grasped Virgil’s thighs and lifted him up and against him. After an initial jolt and gasp of alarm, Virgil wrapped his legs around Logan’s waist, taking advantage of his superior height and ducking his head to kiss Logan. The desperate shake of his hands as he carded through Logan’s hair was beautifully frantic, and each kiss was a fervent display of corrupt, aching intimacy. If Virgil paused to take a breath, Logan opened his eyes for a fraction of a second, catching the hazy, erotic vision of Virgil’s half-lidded eyes and dilated pupils. Then they were off again, desperate hands clinging to what they could reach, and quick, messy kisses that would end with bruised lips.

                Logan used one hand to support Virgil, using the other to reach blindly for the wall. Virgil kissed him hard. He was biting his lip just so, panting against his mouth, tilting his head and delving in again. Logan got impatient. He growled and turned on his heel, slamming Virgil’s back against the wall. Hearing Virgil gasp was oddly satisfying. The way it melted down into a moan drove Logan insane. It was like an aphrodisiac that set Logan’s blood on fire, and he was desperate for more.

                He leaned forward, his lips seeking out that perfect pressure point; the beautiful thrum of Virgil’s pulse. It was racing. His breathing was haggard. His skin was flushed with arousal and Logan could feel his erection straining at the front of his trousers. Hot denim scraped against cotton as they each sought friction, and Logan struggled to distract himself with Virgil’s neck.

                “L-Logan don’t...!” Virgil keened and shivered when Logan licked a hot mark along the column of his neck. Virgil’s hips canted forward, desperate for attention, but Logan held him in place. Virgil let out a high-pitched whine and tried again. “Don’t... mmm... don’t bite. Please.”

                Logan, trying to regain some semblance of coherent thought, nodded blindly as he tugged Virgil’s hoodie up and over Virgil’s head. It was thrown across the room, along with Virgil’s torn, bloody shirt. Logan felt his fangs, sharp and ready, ache at the sight of such exposed, perfect flesh... but he focused on the other base desire fueling his movements.

                He kissed the juncture between Virgil’s neck and shoulder, and Virgil... sweet, perfect Virgil... let out a low, heady moan that went straight to Logan’s erection. He bucked his hips forward, grinding against Virgil in the best way possible.

                “Oh, god... Logan,” Virgil’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling with desperate fervor as he gasped, “ _Fuck_. Do that again.”

                Logan did one better. He set Virgil’s feet on the ground, pushed his thigh up between Virgil’s trembling legs, and rolled his hips slowly. Virgil’s jaw dropped open and his eyes squeezed shut, each breath a soundless, aching gasp. Logan loved that look. He wanted to take that expression and file it away so he could look back on it whenever he liked.

                The scratch of fabric against his own erection was nice, but not nearly enough. Virgil began to match his rhythm, grinding against his hip and letting out the most satisfied moans Logan had ever heard. A frantic, uneven rhythm, the pound of Virgil’s heart, mad and erratic in his chest... it was perfect. Logan felt the hot, molten heat of orgasm build in his stomach... but he wasn’t quite ready for it to be over.

                When Virgil began to rut desperately against his hip, whimpering and gasping for climax, Logan stopped moving, pressing Virgil against the wall and breathing a low, “Wait,” into Virgil’s ear.

                Virgil’s breathless, shattered laugh was enough to make Logan smile.

                “Not... not fair,” Virgil gasped as he tried to wriggle beneath Logan’s pressure. Logan held firm, choosing to kiss along Virgil’s jaw as the younger man gasped, “So... so not fair. I’m... I’m gonna...”

                Virgil’s hands shook as he felt along the edge of Logan’s hips, sliding over the front of his thighs — so good, so good — until he managed to reach between them and grip Logan’s cock through the front of his trousers. Logan startled at the touch, feeling pleasure bolt down his spine as Virgil gave the shaft a soft, teasing squeeze.

                Logan couldn’t help the growl that rose up in his throat, and he turned his head away, clenching his jaw against the desire to simply bite down and claim Virgil for his own. Oh, he wanted to... he wanted... Logan leaned back a bit, flicking open the button to Virgil’s jeans and shoving his hands down Virgil’s pants. Two could play at this game.

                Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin at the touch, and he threw his spare arm around Logan’s shoulders to hold himself up when his knees buckled. Logan wanted to see the dilation of his pupils... he wanted to see the dark blush that bled to his chest... but he couldn’t think. He was on autopilot, listening to Virgil’s shallow, ragged breathing as Logan’s hand slid along the shaft of his cock.

                “Logan... Logan...” Virgil gasped, his breath hot and sticking to the nape of Logan’s neck. His hand, trembling and unsure, fumbled with Logan’s belt until the clasp came undone. There, he pulled Logan from his pants and gave his cock a long, agonizingly slow stroke.

                Logan threw his head back and moaned in reverence, matching the movements of their hands as he steadily sped up the rhythm. Virgil was leaning his entire weight against Logan by now, but Logan locked his knees and held steady, his movements becoming jerky and unorganized as Virgil’s voice became garbled and unintelligent.

                “F-fuck... Logan, I... Logan!” Virgil’s arms tightened around him, his thighs around Logan’s legs tensing and preparing for climax. Logan sped up his pace, feeling he hot, wet drip of precum slick in his hand as Virgil’s breath caught. “Logan, Logan... Logan...!”

                “Yes,” Logan said feeling the molten jolt of satisfaction deep in the pit of his belly. He jerked his hand hard, hearing he way Virgil whined and the way his fingers dig into his shoulders. “Virgil...” Logan turned his nose into the softness of Virgil’s hair and breathed in his scent. God, it was intoxicating. Logan moaned, “Oh, Virgil...”

                That utterance of his name was all Virgil needed. With a breathless, trembling whine, Virgil came. Logan was helpless to follow, pressing his face into the crook of Virgil’s neck as he jerked blindly into Virgil’s hand.

                Heartbeats followed, heavy and racing... but slowly settling down into normalcy. Virgil leaned heavily on Logan’s shoulder. It was a miracle they were even still standing. As if on cue, Logan’s legs gave out, and their knees hit the floor unceremoniously, only barely held up by their joined, frantic embrace.

                “Fuck!” Virgil gasped where he held onto Logan. They were a mess of legs and arms, odd and still catching their breaths. After a bit of shifting and rearranging, they were both able to zip up their pants and sit against the wall. Virgil leaned his head back against the wall and breathlessly repeated, “Fuck.”

                Logan wrinkled his nose and gave Virgil a sidelong look. “You _do_ enjoy that word, don’t you?”

                Virgil let out a half-amused laugh. “Yeah, I guess. I just… didn’t expect… all that.” He turned his head to smile at Logan, and Logan couldn’t help but return the expression.  Virgil wiped the sweat from his brow with a sigh. “This was… a wild night.”

                “Yes, it was,” Logan said lowly, his eyes trained on Virgil’s face. He watched that expression carefully… waiting for a hint of discomfort or regret. It didn’t come. Virgil simply let his eyes flutter shut with a sigh. Logan smiled at that. “Tired?”

                “Mmm… it’s past my bedtime,” Virgil said with a sideways grin as he pushed himself up onto his feet. He wobbled a bit, unsteady, and Logan was quick to stand and support him. Virgil gave him another soft smile as he trudged into the living room to dig through his bag of clothes.

                While virgil changed into something more comfortable, Logan took this opportunity to change out of his own soiled clothing. His dress shirt had been extensively damaged… and even if he had it sewn up, he wouldn’t be able to wear it for work again. He tossed the shredded garment into the waste bin and dressed in clean pants and trousers, along with a deep, blue dress shirt. The only comfortable clothes he could tolerate.

                Virgil wandered back into his room a moment later, padding along the hardwood floors on bare feet. The hem of his black sweatpants dragged along the floor, but Virgil didn’t mind it as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of a fresh, purple hoodie.

                “Hey,” Virgil muttered softly.

                “Hello,” Logan answered, unsure of what Virgil wanted from him. Didn’t Virgil say he was tired? Why would he come back into Logan’s room? Was he so young and frisky that he wanted to go for another round? Logan frowned at that thought; he wasn’t as young as he used to be.

                As if he could feel Logan’s discomfort, Virgil filled with the cuffs of his sleeves and said, “Look, I… I don’t know what all that meant to you. I don’t… really know what…” he indicated between the two of them vaguely. “I don’t know what _this_ is yet, but…”

                Logan’s brow furrowed. “I assumed it was an exchange of mutual sexual attraction… among other things.”

                “Well, yeah,” Virgil laughed a bit, cuffing a hand through his hair as he looked everywhere but Logan. “But… I’m not usually the kinda guy who just… does stuff like that.”

                “I see,” Logan said, struggling to understand what it was Virgil was trying to convey.

                Virgil shuffled his foot softly, looking a little sad when he said, “I’m… not a casual relationship guy. I want… I’m…”

                “Ah,” Logan said, the puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. “You want a romantic relationship as well.”

                Squirming under Logan’s careful gaze, Virgil rubbed his arm tiredly. “I know… it’s stupid. We’ve got... we’ve got Annaliese to worry about. And Patton. And… whatever she did to Roman. And –”

                “Yes,” Logan interrupted with a small smile. “Yes, they’re all something we’ll worry about. But, I find myself constantly distracted by you... and would like to address those feelings now.”

                Virgil lifted his eyes to meet Logan’s gaze, looking so damned hopeful it nearly hurt to see. “Yeah?”

                “Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you. Not after all we’ve been through.”

                Virgil laughed, and Logan felt something light and warm bloom in his chest. Was that romance? Affection? Whatever it was… it was enjoyable. Something that made the pain of the evening seem small and far away… like the world had shifted and changed around them, finding them a safe haven from the tragedy burning through the town.

                When Virgil stepped forward hesitantly, Logan met him halfway, opening his arms and letting Virgil slowly… carefully… embrace him. Logan didn’t often hold people; he never felt the need. But, somehow, with his chin resting against the crown of Virgil’s purple hair and the steady _thu-thump_ of Virgil’s heartbeat against his chest, Logan felt oddly at ease.

                “I… didn’t wanna say anything before,” Virgil murmured softly against Logan’s chest. “But… I’m scared.” Logan’s chest seized at that, and his arms around Virgil tightened instinctively. Virgil sighed. “I… I was asleep when Annaliese showed up. I woke up… and she was there. Just staring at me. Now…” he paused, and Logan felt the shudder that ran down Virgil’s spine. “Now I’m scared to go to sleep.”

                Frowning, Logan lifted up a hand to card through Virgil’s hair. New, irrational emotions told him to protect Virgil. To guard him with everything he had. But closing Virgil up in his coffin and nailing it shut wouldn’t make the problem go away. No… Virgil was a human. He couldn’t be sealed away like an object.

                Gently, Logan pulled away from Virgil, taking his hand and leading him to Patton’s bedroom. Surely, Patton wouldn’t mind if they used the bed for the night. He pushed the door open and lead Virgil to the bed, pushing back the blankets and the sheet.

                Virgil stood to the side quietly, only bothering to murmur, “I… I don’t think I’m up for sex right now, Logan.”

                Logan couldn’t help the smug smile that came to his face as he turned to look at Virgil. “I’m not suggesting sex, Virgil. I’m suggesting sleep.”

                Virgil stiffened. “But I –”

                “I know you’re afraid,” Logan said as softly as he possibly could. This was a delicate subject. A human emotion… a sore that hadn’t even been given a chance to heal. Logan pat the mattress gently. “But I will be here all night, watching over you.”

                Letting out a tired, resigned sigh, Virgil hung his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

                “No, I don’t.” Logan pat the mattress again, watching the way Virgil fidgeted and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “But I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be able to sleep.”

                “You’d stay in here?” Virgil asked, his tone pitched toward hesitant hope. “With me?”

                Logan smiled, “Yes.”

                “All night?”

                Logan nodded. “Of course.”

                Virgil didn’t need any more convincing, he got into the bed and tugged at the covers until they came up to his shoulders. Logan quirked an eyebrow; if Virgil enjoyed them sleeping together, he might have to invest in a normal bed of his own. Sleeping together in a coffin would be a struggle to say the least.

Filing that thought away for later, Logan laid down on the bed next to Virgil, smiling tiredly when Virgil turned to lay on his side and look at him.

                “What if Annaliese shows up?” Virgil whispered, as if it were a deep, dark secret. Logan blinked tiredly, and Virgil scooted a little closer. “What if she comes back?”

                “I won’t let her touch you,” Logan said sternly. His body was worn and tired from fighting… the bliss of orgasm was fresh in his system, leaving him a little sleepy… but he wouldn’t sleep. He would be vigilant guard. He would make Virgil feel safe. “The Carron family has taken enough from me. I won’t let them take you as well.”

                Virgil was quiet at that, reaching out a hand to trace along Logan’s collarbone tiredly. He did this for a few minutes, his warm fingers sliding along Logan’s pale, cold skin. He was almost reverent in his little exploration, and when he unbuttoned the first few buttons of Logan’s shirt, it was innocent exploration. His finger marked the top of Logan’s sternum, sliding up to the column of his neck, under the line of his jaw… then a finger was pressed to Logan’s lips.

                Without thought, Logan kissed the finger. Virgil huffed a laugh… but the smile quickly melted down to a serious, concerned frown.

                “What if…” Virgil murmured softly. “What if she tries to kill you again?”

                Logan blinked slowly. “She won’t.”

                “But –”

                “She won’t,” Logan repeated, reaching up a hand to brush Virgil’s purple bangs from his eyes. “Because I have to keep you safe. I won’t let her kill me.”

                “Sounds like wishful thinking,” Virgil said sleepily. He yawned and curled up against Logan, his warmth seeping into every nook and cranny of Logan’s being. “But I hope you’re right.”

                Though Logan smiled, he could help the dread that filled his stomach. Virgil’s fears were entirely valid. At any moment, Annaliese could come bursting through the windows or doors. She was strong enough. Capable enough. Logan wrapped an arm around Virgil and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair. Virgil didn’t stir. He was already asleep.

                With nothing else to say, Logan quietly murmured, “Sleep well,” to no one but himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have one foot out of the forest... but the trees are a labyrinth.  
> Where can we go next?
> 
> See you next chapter.


	11. Chapter 10

                It was a dreamless night; the kind of night that, when Virgil fell asleep, the landscape of his mind was nothing but inky blackness. He was still terrified of Annaliese. Still scared of being taken and hung from the ceiling again. Afraid of what could have happened if Logan hadn't come to his rescue. And scared that when he woke, Logan wouldn’t be there… but there was a comfort in the way he pressed himself to Logan’s chest. He was stiff and still… quiet and unwavering. He probably didn’t know what ‘cuddling’ was. Not that Virgil minded. He was fine the way he was, in his black mindscape and empty thoughts.

                The sensation that pulled him from sleep was a subtle one… like the feather-light touches of delicate admiration. Careful and soft. It was a hand… sliding up and down the column of his spine. Virgil knew those calloused fingers, and the cold of the skin. He shifted against Logan and let out a tired sigh.

                “What’re you doing?” he mumbled into the crook of Logan’s throat. Logan didn’t seem to mind; he simply kept tracing along his back.

                “Counting the notches of your vertebra,” Logan said softly, sounding far away and distracted.

                Virgil quirked an eyebrow. “How long you been doin’ that?”

                “Nearly three hours,” said Logan, only half-invested in the conversation.

                “Sounds boring,” Virgil yawned as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Logan to pull himself a little closer. Logan adjusted for the embrace, pulling Virgil in as he tapped along the ridges of Virgil’s lumbar vertebra. “You’ve been counting… for three hours?”

                “Yes. It’s very boring,” Logan muttered tiredly. “But I didn’t… I didn’t want to leave. You were comfortable. I didn’t want to wake you.”

                Virgil hummed, relaxing against Logan as he continued to pass the calloused pad of his fingertips along the center of his back. It was oddly soothing. Almost like an inverse massage… a touch so light, and yet, so calming, it relaxed the muscles.

                Still… Virgil knew there was something more to it all. Logan was quiet and awake. Sure, he was nocturnal… but Logan didn’t just sit and think of _nothing_. He was a habitual brooder.

                “So,” Virgil murmured as he shifted his legs. “What’re you thinking about?”

                Logan paused, his fingers still caught in the center of the thoracic vertebra. The pause was noticeable… enough to make Virgil a little uncomfortable. And when Logan spoke, it was in a low, serious tone. “I’m thinking about what Annaliese said to me... and how feeble I’ve become in comparison to her.”

                Virgil frowned and pulled away, giving Logan a hard look in the low light of the room. “Um… you’re not feeble? You’re crazy strong.”

                Logan grimaced and sat up, leaving Virgil feeling a little cold where he lay. “I’m stronger than you, yes, but… Annaliese is different. She’s been having _fresh_ meals, enriching her body… while I’ve been drinking coagulated blood for nearly 80 years.”

                Sitting up slowly, Virgil watched as Logan started to pace the room. Patton’s room. Virgil scratched at the sheets as Logan pulled at the curtains, revealing the subtle glow of a sleepy moon. Talk of meals and enrichment… Virgil wasn’t sure what it all meant in the grand scheme. Logan hadn’t exactly been starving himself. He was well-fed enough. But… was the blood supply that he had somehow not enough to keep him at his best? Virgil slung his legs over the edge of the bed, placing his feet on the cool hardwood floors as he watched the stiff line of Logan’s shoulders.

                “So… what? That somehow makes you weaker?”

                Logan twitched at that, and Virgil could feel something spark in the air as Logan put his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “To put it simply, what I’ve done it cut out a vital part of a vampire’s main diet. It’s like giving a human rotted food and expecting them to perform at their maximum capacity.”

                Standing slowly, Virgil shuffled across the room to meet Logan at the window, wrapping his arms around Logan’s middle and pressing his chest to Logan’s back. Logan took a deep breath as if he might say something, but eventually relaxed at the touch, quiet and complacent. Virgil sighed, “So, she’s stronger than you.”

                “Yes.” One of Logan’s hands came to rest on top of Virgil’s while the other pulled the heavy curtains all the way open. They were bathed in waning moonlight now, watching the way the moon hung drunkenly in the sky, beckoning morning with a sallow light. Logan’s voice was low as he said, “And if I’m going to put an end to this insanity, I’ll have to find some other way to restore what I used to be.”

                Virgil snorted and rested his chin on Logan’s shoulder. “You gonna hunt down the fountain of youth?”

                “Very funny,” Logan deadpanned, his lips twitching up in the suggestion of a smile. He paused, and Virgil felt his stomach clench unhappily. “I find it odd… having to go back to my hunting tactics. I thought I’d set aside those methods, all those years ago…”

                Virgil’s arms tightened around Logan. “You… you’re gonna go hunt someone down and drink their blood?”

                “I won’t drink them _dry_ ,” Logan said, obviously trying to assuage Virgil’s discomfort. It didn’t work. Virgil was uncomfortable for another reason… thought he didn’t quite understand those reasons himself. Logan pat his hand once, an awkward attempt to soothe him. “Killing someone isn’t my goal.”

                “I know,” Virgil muttered as he pressed his cheek against Logan’s shoulder.

                Logan hesitated, and Virgil felt his ribcage expand as he took a breath. “You’re upset.”

                “No,” Virgil lied. “I’m not.”

                Pulling Virgil’s arms away, Logan turned to look at him. For the first time since he’d woken up, Virgil was given a clear view of Logan’s troubled, tired expression. He looked so _drained_. Had he looked like that when they came home, only a few hours ago? Had he been that tired even when he offered to stay awake for Virgil’s pathetic need to be safeguarded? Virgil felt a pit form in his stomach; he was so _selfish_ for asking him to stay awake. Logan was just as tired as he was.

                “Virgil,” Logan said evenly, breaking Virgil from his thoughts. Virgil glanced up at him, seeing something like confliction shine in Logan’s dark, blue eyes. “Why would drinking a strangers’ blood be an issue for _you_?”

                Virgil felt his heart ache; Logan was genuinely confused. He honestly didn’t understand Virgil’s hesitation. Logan would go out… find a stranger… and then do what vampires do best. They would bite. But something about that didn’t sit right with Virgil.

                This relationship was new… and impossibly complex. A human and a vampire. Tale as old as time… and yet, it was nothing like the shitty stories Virgil had read in the past. Now that he was _in_ one of those stories, the tables had turned and he was left a little uneasy.

                “Biting somebody is… intimate, right?” Virgil asked, his eyes wandering over to the windowpane and staying there. Logan tried to catch his eye, but Virgil avoided it. “That’s what all the books say.”

                “I don’t underst… ah.” Logan nodded to himself, like he’d finally realized something. “Jealousy.”

                Virgil quirked an eyebrow at that as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “Jealous? I dunno… maybe? I mean… I’m not super in love with the idea of being _bitten_ , but… I dunno. Have you go and find someone else feels… weird…”

                For a minute, Logan was quiet, mulling this new information with enough intensity, Virgil thought he might need some alone time. While Logan thought Virgil took his hands from his pockets and fiddled with the beltloops of Logan’s trousers. Logan, amused by this, allowed Virgil to tug him a little closer, the two of their bodies swaying in rhythm as Logan thought.

                “You don’t want me to bite someone else,” Logan summarized softly as his hands came to rest on Virgil’s hips. Virgil liked that. It was grounding. Logan’s next statement, however, was not. “But you don’t want me to bite you.”

                “I didn’t say _that_ ,” Virgil mumbled crossly. “I just… it sounds like it hurts.”

                Logan hummed thoughtfully, his eyes trained on something in the distance as he murmured, “The point isn’t to inflict pain, Virgil. It’s to feed. Nothing more.”

                Virgil hesitated, swaying into Logan as he thought. In all honest, it sounded kinda… hot. To Virgil, at least. Part of him thought he’d be fine with the pain. He had a pretty high pain tolerance… however, pride cometh before the fall. So what happened if it really hurt? What happened if, like in those trashy vampire novels, Logan lost control and accidentally killed him? Or turned him into another vampire? No, Logan told him a while ago that vampires and ghouls were created through specific processes. He wouldn’t be able to change Virgil like that. Even so… the pain set Virgil on edge.

                Swaying from side to side with Logan, Virgil took a breath and sighed, “Would you… be really careful?”

                “I don’t know why I wouldn’t be.” Logan’s hands kneaded Virgil’s lower back idly, calming him along with Logan’s words. “I know how to minimize the pain, if that is what concerns you the most.”

                Deciding to take those words and run with them, Virgil wriggled out of Logan’s arms. He steeled his nerves as he pulled at the collar of his hoodie, pushing the collar of his t-shirt out of the way. Logan watched this little struggle quietly, his eyes burning against Virgil’s face as he pushed his bangs out of his eyes. Baring his neck — it was so cliché, like every vampire novel he’d read — Virgil pointedly watched the wall.

                “Okay,” he said evenly, though that tone didn’t reflect the anxiety that sparked in his chest. Logan didn’t move. It almost felt like Logan was staring at him, observant and cool. Virgil tugged his collar again, pulling it lower and exposing the skin of his neck. “Okay. Go for it.”

                Silence. Logan didn’t move. He watched, quiet and painfully attentive. Virgil glanced at him from the corner of his eye, seeing one delicate eyebrow arch in vague question. Virgil made a face at that.

                “What?”

                Logan shook his head once. “I’m merely surprised,” he stepped forward, one hand resting on the crest of Virgil’s hip while the other cradled the back of his neck like the most precious thing in the world. But he didn’t bite. He spoke to Virgil’s skin, soft and thoughtful. “A hundred years ago, I _hunted_ for food and people _feared_ vampires.”

                Virgil snorted. “How does it feel to be fetishized by modern pop culture?”

                “Discomforting,” Logan muttered in a stern, unhappy tone. Virgil would’ve laughed, but the cool rush of Logan’s words made him catch his breath. “But, you’re sure I can do this? You give me your full consent?”

                “Yeah,” Virgil said anxiously. “Yeah, go ahead.”

                Logan leaned forward, his soft but cold lips pressing against the skin... Virgil tensed, preparing himself for the pain...

                “Relax,” Logan ordered.

                Virgil jumped at the sudden statement and fought to reign in his anxiety. Logan held still, and Virgil wondered how much he had to relax in order for him to just  _do it already_.

                Logan sighed, “Virgil, if you don’t relax, I will bite down on tense muscle. That will be more painful for you.”

                Virgil wrinkled his nose. “Sorry, I’m just... not used to someone wanting to take a bite of me.”

                Abruptly, Logan stepped back. “Virgil. I’m not biting off a piece of your flesh.”

                “I know, I know...” Virgil took his hand from his collar and wrung his hands in the air, trying to dispel nervous energy. “It’s just... weird.”

                Logan’s brow furrowed, and he fidgeted with his glasses. Virgil loved it when he did that. It made him seem... softer, somehow. Less stiff and formal. Would it be weird to say it made him seem… human? Perhaps flawed would be a better word. Logan was a imperfect but intelligent man… and he obviously knew what he was doing. So why was Virgil hesitating?

                Logan gave him a careful look. “We don’t have to —“

                “No, I can do it.” Virgil promised, “I can do it. Just... go for it.”

                Raising his eyebrows in cool disbelief, Logan gestured to Patton’s bed. “Maybe you should take a seat. You look pale.”

                Virgil blinked; did he really look that bad? He thought he was doing pretty well for a guy who’d never been bitten before. But, he followed Logan’s instructions and sat down, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. Logan sat next to him, all broad shoulders and perfect, kissable lips. Virgil almost leaned forward, but he remembered what they were doing... and he stopped. He waited for the next instruction.

                “Relax,” Logan said for the umpteenth time. His eyes were fixed on Virgil’s throat, and when Virgil swallowed nervously, he swore he could see Logan’s eyes widen just a bit. “Relax, Virgil. I’ll be a gentle as possible,” his voice was husky... just a hint of desire lining his words.

                Dammit, that was hot.

                Virgil licked his lips and nodded, closing his eyes and trying to think of something calming. Like a beach. That’s what people thought of to relax, right? The ocean was full of terrifying things, though... Virgil stopped thinking about that. Maybe a cozy fireplace. Curling up with Logan on a big, soft sofa. Reading a book with him while the fire crackled... house fires. Why was he thinking of house fires? Stupid brain.

                Virgil startled when Logan’s breath whispered across his skin again, and he instinctively leaned away. Glancing over at him sheepishly, he saw a slightly knowing look on Logan’s face. It wasn’t smug or contrary... but more somber than anything. Logan sat back and away from him.

                “Perhaps I should simply forgo drinking fresh blood,” he said to himself, sounding satisfied with the suggestion. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable... and, I haven’t needed it all these years. I’ll find another way to outwit Annaliese.”

                Heaving a frustrated sigh, Virgil stood up and shuffled around the room. He could feel Logan’s eyes on him, curious and admiring as Virgil sulked. Fiddling with the strings on his hoodie, he carefully admired the floor. Why was he so agitated about this?

                Maybe it was the fact that their relationship – or whatever the hell this was – was so new and uncertain. Maybe it was simple, hormonal jealousy. Any book or movie could show that drinking someone’s blood held sexual nuances… but was it true, or was it Hollywood fabrication? Virgil didn’t really care. He simply felt this tight, knotted feeling under his ribcage that tugged at the thought of Logan leaving to find his nourishment elsewhere.

                Or, Virgil mulled, Logan had offered to skip drinking blood altogether. It was probably a mission of mercy to spare Virgil’s feelings… a clear sign that Logan was trying to make him feel better. But it didn’t. If anything, it stung. Like being dismissed when he knew he could be doing something… _anything_ to help.

                “You’re upset,” Logan said simply, startling Virgil out of his thoughts. He lifted his eyes to see Logan eyeing him from across the room. He tilted his head a bit, almost looking like a scientist observing a phenomenon with the way he looked at Virgil. “I may not be the most apt at reading social cues or facial expressions… but I can see that you’re distressed.”

                Virgil shrugged. Logan was not impressed. He smoothed a hand down the front of his blue shirt, glancing toward the window almost wistfully. “I’m not sure what I can do to soothe you.”

                “You don’t have to… _soothe_ me. I’m not a baby,” Virgil muttered as he kicked his legs and met Logan on the other side of the room. “I just… I don’t want you going out to drink _someone else’s_ blood. But I don’t know how I can relax so you can drink _my_ blood.”

                Logan’s brow furrowed, and even as Virgil wriggled his way into his arms, he looked perplexed. “You are an odd human being, Virgil Sanders.”

                Virgil scoffed. “Thanks.”

                “No, really,” Logan pressed as he started to slowly backtrack his way out of Patton’s room. Virgil walked with him, matching his every step as Logan murmured, “You offer your own blood… so _willingly_.” He looked down at Virgil, and there was a glimmer of something… sad in his eyes. “Even though you gain nothing in return? There is no equivalent exchange in this transaction.”

                “Easy, Ewdward Elric,” Virgil smirked. “No need to get philosophical on me.”

                Logan made a face as he came to a stop next to the sofa. “Edward… who?”

                “Don’t worry about it.” Virgil waved his hand in dismissal, sitting down on the sofa when Logan gestured for him to take a seat. “But, uh… what are we doing out here?” He gave Logan a sharp look. “You’re not gonna ditch me here to go out hunting, are you?”

                “No,” Logan said with a distinct adjustment of his glasses. He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his dress shirt, and Virgil watched with an interested gaze. What was he doing? His question was answered when Logan got down on his knees and pushed Virgil’s legs apart. “Because you are – apparently – insistent on being the only one I bite, I am going to find a simple and direct way to help you relax.” He paused and gave Virgil a look over the edge of his glasses. “With your permission, of course.”

                Hardly able to suppress a genuinely surprised laugh, Virgil nodded. “S-sure? I guess? I mean… if you want? You don’t have to if you –”

                “Virgil, please.” Logan interrupted. He was still looking at Virgil, but now there was a dark, sinister smile on his face. “If I didn’t want to do this… I wouldn’t have offered.”

+++++

                The first thing to come back to Patton was his sense of touch. It was slow at first, the scrambling, wispy tendrils of warm sunlight… then the dull, earthy ache of strained muscles and bruised bones. He felt… dirt under his body, hard but gravelly… where was he? Outside, no doubt… but where? He was heavy. Too heavy to move. He had to wait for the rest of his body to wake up.

                Smells came next; the acrid odor of his own blood and sweat… then, the musky, flowery smell of Roman’s cologne, smudged into his very being from beyond the grave. He was close. Close enough that Patton thought he could reach out and grab him… but lead filled his limbs. The heaviness was fading… but slow enough that Patton wanted to cry.

                Sounds registered slowly. He could hear voices… muffled at first, but growing in volume. At first blush, it almost seemed like the voices were speaking another language, but… no. They were speaking English. Patton’s brain just hadn’t organized itself enough for him to understand. As he lay on the dirt ground, aching and tired, he listened to the strange voices.

                “No one is supposed to be in these warehouses,” one voice said gruffly. They sounded mad. Were they fighting with someone? Patton couldn’t tell. “How did you guys even get through the gates?”

                “O-ho, my friend… let me tell you a tale,” Roman laughed easily. Patton’s heart ached; Roman. Roman was safe. Annaliese hadn’t hurt him as much as he thought… the actions of last night were still blurry and disorganized. Even so, he listened to Roman lie. “It was a harmless night of drinking, I swear! But then my darling little Patton stumbled out of the bar, drunk out of his wits! I didn’t know he couldn’t hold his liquor!”

                “Yeah. Right,” the first voice said, obviously unconvinced.

                Roman went on, happy to continue his charade. “Of _course_ I followed him! Can’t let a pretty little thing like him wander off, as I’m sure you gentlemen know.” There was a brief pause where Roman waited for agreement. No one spoke. Roman continued. “So I followed him all the way down to this little construction site and… well, let me tell you: it was a _mess_.”

                “Oh yeah?” One of the construction workers asked, sounding mildly interested. “What kinda mess?”

                “Oh, drug dealers behind every warehouse!” Roman lied easily, his words emphasized and melodramatic. “Drunk teenagers singing terrible pop songs! A few men were threatening each other with tire irons!”

                There was a pause, and the first voice said, “Why not call the cops, Smart Guy?”

                Roman chuckled. “You really think I’d call the police with half a dozen gang members in close proximity? No, no, no… I simply wanted to take my dear Patton home.” He paused, then let out a sad, dramatic sigh. “If only he hadn’t tripped down those stairs… he’s lucky he didn’t break any bones, the poor darling.”

                “Yeah. Whatever. You guys really aren’t supposed to be in here,” the construction worker said irritably. “You shoulda just picked him up and taken him outta here.”

                “An excellent suggestion!” Roman said brightly, a laugh clear in his tone. “You are a man of sparkling intellect. And might I say… that is a _lovely_ mustache.”

                Patton had heard enough. He stirred, letting out a groan as he fought to push himself into an upright position. He felt gentle, familiar hands on his shoulders immediately.

                “Roman?” Patton asked, trying his best to play the part of a hungover human. “What… where… wh-what happened last night?”

                “It’s quite the story, darling,” Roman whispered with a chuckle. “But these nice men are trying to get to work… so we’d best be off.”

                “Yeah,” one of the men said angrily. Patton glanced up at him, seeing a blurry, sunburned face and a bushy mustache. It was difficult to discern the features without his glasses, but this man was obviously displeased. “If we find you two in here again, we’re calling the police, got it?”

                “Understood, loud and clear,” Roman promised. He slung Patton’s arm over his shoulder and struggled to pull him up and onto his feet. For a wraith, Roman was strong… but even wraiths had their limits. Patton fought to use his own strength to shuffle forward, out of the warehouse. “Damn idiots… if I’d known they were going to show up at the crack of dawn, I would’ve lured you out of this damn warehouse and into a forest or something…”

                “You… you shouldn’t have had to look after me at all,” Patton murmured tiredly as he stumbled forward. His feet hurt… he’d probably cut them. Dirt was getting ground into the wounds. He struggled to ignore this as they continued forward. “I’m sorry… but when she… when she threw you like that, I panicked. It’s my fault I changed.”

                “Don’t,” Roman grunted. “Don’t you _dare_ blame yourself for last night. It was… all of it was out of our control. I was… apparently cursed. I guess we could say it was _my_ fault you and Virgil were taken.”

                Patton stiffened. “That’s not true, I – ow!” Patton glanced down at his feet. They were bare and sore. Lifting one foot, he saw a cut on his heel. Gray-red blood started to well up… the blood of a nether creature. Patton frowned and put his foot back on the ground. “What… what happened to my shoes?”

                Roman bit his lower lip for a moment, then glanced around to make sure no construction people were close enough to hear when he said, “The thing is… I used them to distract you for a bit. I threw them and you chased after them… but once you were wise to the ruse… you ate them.”

                Patton blinked. “I… ate them.”

                “Yes.”

                “My shoes?” Patton said, more of a reaffirming statement than a question.

                Roman nodded, barely able to suppress a laugh. “Yes, darling.”

                “I ate my shoes,” Patton said, the disbelief bubbling up in his chest until he couldn’t help but smile. Roman’s eyes sparkled with that telltale, smothered giggle and Patton couldn’t help it.

                He started to laugh.

+++++

                Logan sat back and swallowed thickly. His theory — if such an act could be considered a theory — was proven correct. Fellatio had relaxed Virgil considerably, and as he sat on the sofa, his legs spread and heart thudding but steadily slowing, Logan made quick work of zipping up his trousers.

                “Virgil,” Logan asked carefully. It had been a considerable time since he’d last performed oral sex... he’s forgotten the stiffness in his jaw that would follow. He’d have to be careful of that in the future. “Virgil, how do you feel?”

                After a breathless chuckle, Virgil looked down at him with half-lidded, hazy eyes. “Pretty damn good. How ‘bout you?”

                While pride sparked in Logan’s chest, his trousers were a bit too tight for comfort. Ah, the discomforts of arousal... another thing he’d need to relearn.

                Shifting on his knees to alleviate a bit of pressure, Logan cleared his throat. “I’ll admit, I’m a bit uncomfortable.”

                Virgil frowned and sat up a bit, his hands fisted and brow furrowed while his eyes were still misty with the ecstasy of afterglow. “You... you didn’t  _have_  to swallow. Hell, you didn’t have to do this at all...”

                Holding up a hand to cut Virgil short, Logan shook his head. “Not because of that, Virgil. I have an erection.”

                After a moment, Virgil’s expression turned smug. “Yeah? I bet I could somethin’ about that...”

                “No, you’re relaxed. Biting you now would be best,” said Logan sternly. He could hold off on self-inelegance... at least, sexual indulgence. Really, he was trading that pleasure for another kind. He stood and got onto the sofa with Virgil. “You _are_ relaxed, yes?”

                Shifting a little, Virgil’s expression gained a hint of indecision. “Yeah...”

                Logan leaned back. “If you’d rather I not bite you, Virgil, I will respect your boundaries.”

                “No, I’m good... just...” Virgil waved his hand flippantly. “Kinda worried about how much it’ll hurt.”

                “My goal isn’t to hurt you,” Logan said lowly, his voice earning a husk as he glanced at the nape of Virgil’s neck. His pulse was still a bit elevated, and Logan could almost feel the beat of Virgil’s heart in the air. He could almost taste it... god, he was hungrier than he’d thought.

                Virgil’s thoughtful hum tore Logan from his thoughts, and his eyes snapped back to Virgil’s expression. The clouds in his eyes were clearing. The afterglow was fading. Virgil would tense again if he wasn’t quick.

                “Virgil, I won’t pressure you,” Logan said, though the wanton, desperate whine behind his words undermined the statement. Virgil gave him an amused look at that.

                “You... you’ll stop, right? If it hurts?”

                Logan’s mouth as watering. He fought the urge to swallow as he glanced at Virgil’s pulse point. “Yes, of course.”

                Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Virgil tugged at the collar of his hoodie, baring his neck in a display that made his so  _vulnerable_ , it made Logan’s eye twitch involuntarily. Even after kneeling between Virgil’s legs... even after hearing him moan so shamelessly... even  _after_  having his hair pulled in a way that made Logan ache with pleasure... Logan was certain that Virgil had never looked so tantalizing before.

                “All right,” Virgil said in a voice that snapped Logan from his trance. “Just... be uh... be careful, I guess? Don’t... don’t kill me.”

                Logan couldn’t help the urgency in his voice as he leaned in close and swore, “Of course I won’t. I’ll... be as gentle as possible.”

                Virgil hummed again, and with how close Logan was, he could feel the sound vibrate in the air. Bracing Virgil’s chin with his left hand, Logan slipped his right hand around the back of Virgil’s neck. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end, and Virgil shuddered at the coolness of his hands, but Logan hardly registered the sensation. He leaned a bit closer, his lips tracing the warm skin of Virgil’s neck.

                Couldn’t bite the jugular... Virgil would bleed out. Couldn’t go too far along the shoulder... he could hit the collarbone. Logan found a good place between those points, anticipation making his stomach twist and mind race.

                The skin was dry, but Logan made quick work of that, licking a stripe along his designated biting space. Virgil’s breath caught and he shivered again, but this was more excited pleasure than fear. Logan felt his lips twitch up in a smile at that.

                Opening his mouth, Logan pressed the points of his fangs against Virgil’s skin. A hint of hesitation, but not rock-hard muscle. He was calm. Logan took advantage of that brief relaxation, and bit down, breaking through layers of skin and sinking his teeth into complacent muscle.

                Virgil’s jolt of shock nearly knocked Logan off the sofa. “Fuck!” He shouted, grasping a fistful of Logan’s hair as his breathing became quick and ragged.

                Shock or pain? Logan couldn’t tell. And with the way Virgil was holding him in place, he couldn’t unclamp his jaw to ask. So he stayed still, feeling the incredibly warm rush of blood welling under his teeth. He could almost taste it... but with Virgil holding him, he couldn’t pull away to drink. Seconds dragged by as Virgil’s muscles locked and his pulse thundered under his skin.

                “Okay...” Virgil gasped, breathless and starting to shake. “Okay. Not so bad. Stings... a little. But… not so bad...”

                Logan would’ve consoled him, but he like was still held in place. At the very least, he was able to stroke his thumb along the line of Virgil’s chin, soothing and comforting in the only way he could. At the touch, Virgil relaxed a bit, and his handful of Logan’s hair slowly but surely relaxed, leaving a heavy hand carding through Logan’s hair in a sort of distracting, soothing mechanism.

                Careful not to tear at the skin any more than he already had, Logan pulled himself from Virgil’s neck, swiping his tongue over the front of his teeth. And explosion of warmth and flavor awaited him... the bitter copper of blood. The warm, smoothness of it on his tongue... Logan nearly felt intoxicated. Was this what humans felt when they took drugs?

                Looking down at the deep, red punctures on Virgil’s neck, Logan watched in a hazy, delighted fervor as blood welled up… and then dripped down to mark a scarlet line perpendicular to Virgil’s collarbone. Almost lightheaded with desire, Logan ducked his head and swept his tongue up and over the blood, lapping it up like a cat with cream. Beneath him, Virgil gave another heady shudder. It was blissful. The warmest Logan had ever felt... but, at the same time, it was agonizing to have to hold back.

                Nonetheless, he eagerly sucked at the bite mark, massaging the muscle with his tongue to force more blood to the surface of Virgil’s skin. Hot mouthfuls of blood left Logan weightless and desperate for more, like a man stranded in the desert finding an oasis. He drank one mouthful... then another... and another. He needed to keep track. One liter was safe... two would be dangerous. Was there a happy medium? Could Logan push the envelope?

                Virgil’s hand in his hair stopped moving, instead coming to a heavy rest at the nape of his neck, as if moving was becoming a chore. “Dizzy...” Virgil mumbled, hardly registering in Logan’s ears. “Gettin’... dizzy.”

                Logan couldn’t provide any other answer than a heady, breathless moan as he swallowed another mouthful of blood. The blood was thinning now, becoming harder to drink as Virgil’s blood pressure dropped. His body was trying to stop the rush of the bleeding. Sucking on the skin, Logan idly wondered if Virgil would mind the bruise that would form around the bite. Considering how often Virgil wore his jackets and hoodies, no one else would see it. That would be fine.

                “Hey...” Virgil mumbled, sounding a bit foggy. “I said ‘hey.’ I think... I think that’s enough.”

                Logan hesitated, taking a moment to register the sounds and smells flooding his senses. Virgil’s pulse was starting to weaken. Lowered blood pressure… faint and anxious. Logan had taken enough. He needed to stop. Pulling back slowly, Logan was careful not to tear the skin around the punctures he’d made. Once he pulled away, he took Virgil’s limp hand and pressed it over the wound.

                “All right?” Logan asked, leaning over to catch Virgil’s hazy eyes. Virgil blinked sluggishly, and Logan repeated, “Are you all right?”

                “Foggy… but good,” Virgil muttered as he reached up a hand to rub his eyes tiredly.

                Nodding in approval, Logan stood and started toward the bathroom to find Patton’s first-aid kit… only to stumble a bit. He caught himself on the arm of the sofa, holding steady as the room swayed dangerously.

                “Woah,” Virgil’s spare hand grabbed Logan’s wrist and gave it a squeeze. “Are _you_ okay?”

                “Yes, of course I am. I’m always fine,” Logan answered quickly as he blinked the dizziness away. It was a lie. An obvious one. Virgil would have to have Patton’s good faith to believe it. Unfortunately, Virgil was Virgil… and Virgil was a skeptic.

                “You don’t _look_ fine,” Virgil murmured.

                Logan pushed away from the sofa before Virgil could say anymore. He rummaged through Patton’s unnecessary grooming items… cologne, aftershave, lotion... The first-aid kit had been pushed to the back. It had been a while since Patton had last needed it… a while since his last transformation. Shaking off that information, Logan brought the supplies back to the sofa and took his seat next to Virgil, pointedly avoiding the younger man’s gaze.

                There, he cleaned the wound, wiping away the thin blood and torn skin as Virgil winced and looked away. Logan didn’t mind this work… the alcohol made the blood smell less than desirable. A little off-putting. It was a relief to put the adhesive bandage over the puncture and seal away the deed like a dirty secret.

                “Logan,” Virgil murmured as Logan cleaned up the wrappers of the bandage. “Seriously… are you okay?”

                Logan paused, hearing the _click_ of the first-aid kit clasping shut as he stared at the red plus on top of the box. “I’m… better, I think,” Logan managed to murmur, almost like an afterthought. “Better in a way that… I’m not quite sure how to describe with words.”

                Virgil was quiet for a moment. Thinking and anxious. Eventually he muttered, “Okay? Kinda cryptic... but okay.”

                Lifting his eyes, Logan met Virgil’s steely gaze with a soft, fluttering feeling in his chest. Like a heartbeat. Like life. Like an unknown emotion… but not quite. Logan sighed, “When humans do not receive the proper nutrition, their bodies begin to falter and fail.”

                Virgil narrowed his eyes. “Oh… ‘kay?”

                Logan nodded. “When humans start to feed themselves properly, the body can be… shocked by the sudden intake of food.”

                Pursing his lips, Virgil nodded. “I think I get where this is going…” Logan quirked an eyebrow while Virgil gestured for him to continue. “But, just in case I don’t, you should… just… tell me.”

                Logan couldn’t help but smile at that. “My body isn’t used to oxygen-rich blood like yours. It makes me feel…” he paused for a moment, sorting through his words before he could find an appropriate description. “Lighter, I suppose. Almost like what I used to be… but somehow, more.” When he looked at Virgil, there was a vague look of confusion on his face. Logan smiled at that as he stood up and put the first-aid kit back in the bathroom. “In summary…I feel younger.”

                “Holy shit,” Virgil whispered in the living room. “I’m a fancy old dude’s mid-life crisis…”

                Stepping back into the room, Logan raised his eyebrows. “You’re my what?”

                When Virgil opened his mouth to no doubt explain his statement, both men paused at the sound of the front door creaking open. They held their breath, waiting with collective anxiety as they waited… only to relax when two pairs of footsteps shuffled over the threshold. Patton and Roman were finally home.

                Leaning down to better whisper in Virgil’s ear, Logan adored the feeling of living warmth that radiated from Virgil as he whispered, “Patton is normally very… sensitive after a night as a ghoul. I highly recommend avoiding the topic of last night.”

                Shrugging a little, Virgil nodded and turned to give Logan a smile. “Sure.”

                Nodding in approval, Logan stood up straight. He didn’t get far, though… no, Virgil hooked a finger under his collar and pulled him back down into a kiss. Soft and lingering… warm and real. It was stained an odd shade in Logan’s mind… distracted by the scent of Virgil’s blood that was still stuck to his tongue… and even more off-kilter due to the strong smell of the antiseptic.

                With the taste of Virgil still on his lips, Logan stood tall, rebuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and took the newspaper from the coffee table. Patton and Roman were slowly and carefully making their way up the stairs. Their footsteps were heavy… tired and pained. Logan could guess what kind of things Patton had done in the last few hours of the night. The chasing, the tearing, the clawing… it was a miracle Patton had even lasted this long.

                Sitting in his armchair with the paper held in front of his face, Logan didn’t look up to see Patton and Roman reach the top of the stairs. He heard the _creak_ and _groan_ of the wooden handrail as they leaned against it, and the shuddering sound of a tired sigh. Patton, no doubt. Logan let the newspaper fold down so he could get a look at his broken and beaten friend.

                Patton looked exhausted. With eyes that were shadows of what they once were… and his glasses were nowhere to be found. His lip was bloodied and bruising in more places than one. The work of his own fangs, surely. His blue shirt had been worn by sand and black-red blood, making it an odd, abstract rendition of a botched painting. Logan glanced down. Where in the world were his shoes?

                “You’re back,” Logan said simply, summarizing Patton’s disheveled appearance and Roman’s weary expression. On the sofa, Virgil pivoted to give Patton a quick once-over. Logan saw a sympathetic wince, but it was replaced with a pitying smile.

                “Hey, Pat,” Virgil said softly, as if speaking too loudly might shatter what little composure Patton had left.  “How ya doin?”

                Despite the obvious pain Patton was in, he struggled to paste a shaky smile on his face. “Not too hot, kiddo… I think I… I’m going to take a shower and… head to bed.”

                “I’ll help you,” Roman said readily as he supported Patton’s arm. He walked him to the bathroom, but before the door shut on them, Roman stepped into the living room once more. He leaned into the bathroom, murmuring a quick, “I’ll be back in a moment, angel,” before he closed the door.

                There, he pivoted on his foot until he was giving Logan a sharp, narrow-eyed stare. Logan ignored this, turning back to the newspaper with a disinterested eye. He wasn’t really interested in the news… he had too many other things to worry about. Virgil, Patton, Annaliese… the world was a mess without the added ridiculousness of American politics.

                “You’re in a strangely good mood,” Roman said lowly, his voice bordering on hostile.

                Logan turned a page in the newspaper, scanning the words with unseeing eyes. “Allegedly.”

                “You’re hardly _ever_ in a good mood after Patton comes home from being a ghoul.”

                Again, Logan muttered, “ _Allegedly_.”

                “Your hair’s a mess,” Roman observed astutely. Dammit… Logan had forgotten to brush it after Virgil had knotted his fingers in it twenty minutes earlier… although, he’d been fairly distracted at the time. And, Virgil pulling his hair hadn’t exactly been unpleasant… but that was beside the point. Roman had crossed his arms over his chest and was _still_ watching Logan. “Your hair is never a mess.”

                “It would appear that way,” Logan said disinterestedly. He could feign ignorance. He didn’t need Roman’s nose in his sex-life. He sniffed and pretended to read another article while muttering, “What’s your point?”

                There was a long, knowing pause, and then Roman raised his chin and said, “You had sex.”

                Abruptly, Logan lowered his newspaper to look at Virgil. Had he given something away? A telltale, human disposition that gave away their past actions? No… humans were hardly so observant. Roman was just nosy and arrogant. That aside, Virgil wasn’t even looking at him. He was giving Roman an odd, befuddled look. He was just as irritated and confused as Logan.

                “My _god._ ” Roman’s eyes went wide as he scandalously whispered, “You had sex with _Virgil!”_

                Virgil, who was surprisingly mature in the face of Roman’s disbelief, crossed his legs and raised his eyebrows. “So? Why are you making this a big deal?”

                “Because!” Roman squeaked, obviously trying to keep his voice down so Patton wouldn’t overhear. He wrung his hands in the air, looking oddly jittery while he hissed, “I had no idea Logan was _capable_ of human emotion, let alone lust!”

                Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Virgil frowned. “Stop it. You’re making it sound weird.”

                “No! The fact that he chose _you_ of all people is weird!” Roman whisper-shouted, his voice creeping higher and higher into hysteria as Logan watched. This entire display was for Roman’s own benefit. He wanted details, most likely. He was always fishing for information… especially when it was none of his business. “I mean, a _human_? And _Logan_? It’s like a… a… a Shakespearean tragedy gone wrong!”

                Logan quirked his eyebrow. “The only one being Shakespearean here is _you_ , Roman.”

                Virgil narrowed his eyes. “No… not enough dick jokes for that.”

                Roman ignored that point and swept up to the sofa, leaning into Virgil’s personal space as he stared at him intently. “Tell me… is he still somber between the sheets?”  Virgil glared at him, and Roman’s expression turned smug. “Or… is he bossy? I _have_ to know.”

                This is the moment that Logan started to weigh the pros and cons of exorcising Roman once and for all. It would’ve been a blessing to have the wraith out of his house. It would definitely make things _quieter_ , at the very least.

                “Why is that any of your business?” Logan asked pointedly, his teeth still sharp and ready to bite. Roman simply gave him an innocent shrug.

                “Because we live together…” he paused, then smiled deviously. “And I’m nosy.”

                Virgil leaned away from him. “Nice try, but that’s our business. Not yours.”

                “What?” Roman whined as he draped himself over the back of the sofa in a dramatic display. “After all we’ve been through, you won’t give me _any_ details?”

                Virgil snorted. “Being half-nice doesn’t entitle you to my deep, dirty, bedroom secrets.”

                Roman gasped. “Deep _and_ dirty?”

                “Please be quiet,” Logan sighed as he massaged his temples. “It’s too early for me to listen to your drama.”

                 “Oh, don’t be like that,” Roman chuckled as he settled onto the sofa next to Virgil and slung an arm over his shoulders. “I’m happy for you. Really… I wish the best for you both.”

                Virgil gave Logan a sidelong glance and an amused smile while he muttered, “Thanks? I think?”

                “I just have _one_ question…” Roman said softly.

                Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”

                “Not for _you_ , Tall Dark and Dreary,” Roman spat. He turned to Virgil and smiled. “It’s you… why on _Earth_ did you fall for our crabby, antisocial Mr. Stein? I’m absolutely _dying_ to know.”

                Even in his vast irritation, Logan felt himself pause. Why _was_ Virgil so interested in him? Was it an aesthetic desire? A primal urge? Or, maybe he just desired a thrill. If anything, Logan could probably tick a few of those boxes. But, in truth… he knew he wasn’t a desirable man. He wasn’t pleasant like Patton. He wasn’t a helpless romantic like Roman. He was bitter and factual.

                Logan frowned; why did Virgil want to be close to him? Why did Virgil kiss him so gently? Why did Virgil hold him so tightly? What was this? And _why_ was it?

                Across the room, Virgil gave a tired shrug. “First of all, you’re already dead. Secondly… I don’t know? Why does anyone fall for anyone?”

                Logan perked up at that. Fall for someone? Virgil had fallen for him? How did that happen? At best, Logan assumed this would be a one-time indulgence. Virgil wouldn’t want to be with someone so surly… wouldn’t he?

                “I mean… I just… like him? It’s hard to explain,” Virgil scratched a hand through his hair. “He’s sarcastic. And smart. And funny, in his own way… I dunno.” He shrugged again. “How can I explain it?”

                “You don’t have to,” Roman said with a sappy, knowing smile. “I think the words you used were just perfect.” He glanced at Logan. “You be good to this boy, Logan… you’re lucky to have found someone who can actually tolerate you.”

                “I’ll keep that in mind,” Logan deadpanned.

                “Well!” Roman sighed as he flickered out of corporeality. He reappeared in front of the bathroom, still watching Logan carefully. “I’m sure you have the perfect plan to get the best of Annaliese, don’t you?”

                Logan’s gaze wandered to the window, eyeing the sunlight that edged through the curtains. “Not yet… but I’ll think of something.”

                “Good. You do that,” Roman said, sounding more like an order than a statement. “The sooner the better… this whole mess… it’s gotten out of hand.”

                “You think I don’t know that?” Logan growled, his eyes snapping back to Roman sharply. Roman quirked an eyebrow, and Logan looked away again. “This has put plenty of stress on all of us, Roman.”

                “Well,” Virgil sat forward in his seat. “I mean, sure, she’s got an edge on you… but like… now that you’ve had fresh blood, doesn’t that sorta even the odds?”

                “Fresh… what?” Roman gave Virgil an odd look… then looked to Logan… and then started to giggle. “Logan, you _dog_.”

                Virgil gave the wraith a flabbergasted look. “Why are you getting weird about _that_?”

                Roman didn’t provide an explanation as he slipped through the bathroom door, obviously eager to share his newfound gossip with Patton. Logan ignored that, drumming his fingers against his thigh tiredly. He needed to think. Lord Carron had been caught in his own pride… a lapse in judgement and the perfect target for a surprise attack. Emily, on the other hand, had welcomed death with open arms. She knew it was merely a matter of time until Logan caught her… and when he had, she didn’t fight it.

                Annaliese was different.

                She was fighting something… or someone. Perhaps Logan. Perhaps herself. It wasn’t clear. She was certifiably insane, reaching for old vendettas and plans decades late and executing them in a messy, slapdash way that wasn’t anything like herself. Logan’s brow furrowed as he thought, and he absently heard Virgil get up from the sofa.

                “Hey,” Virgil said softly. “You’re making that angry face again.”

                “I’m _thinking_ ,” Logan grumbled as Virgil came to sit on the arm of his chair. It would ruin the fabric and weigh on the structure of the chair… but he didn’t care. He closed his eyes when Virgil’s warm hand carded through his hair, sliding down the back of his neck and lingering under his collar.

                “You look mad,” Virgil murmured, his voice hardly a whisper. “Should I not have told Roman about you biting me?”

                Logan chuckled. “That’s not why I’m upset.”

                “Yeah?” Virgil’s voice was lighter. Amused. Logan liked that. “Then… why _are_ you mad?”

                “Oh, many reasons,” Logan sighed. “Maybe because I’m not strong enough to take Annaliese head-on. Maybe because I don’t know how to get the better of her.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Or, maybe I’m just tired.”

                “You normally go to bed around dawn, anyway… maybe you should get some sleep.”

                Virgil was gentle with his words, careful and concise in their meaning. Still, neither man moved.  They stayed in the living room, Logan resting his head in his hand while Virgil rubbed his shoulders soothingly. When Virgil spoke again, there was an edge to his voice. Discomforted and slightly confused.

                “Why _aren’t_ you strong enough?” Virgil muttered. “I mean… is this about the whole… blood thing? Cuz… if you need to drink more blood, then I guess you can –”

                Logan held up a hand to stop him. “No, it’s not that, Virgil. And though I appreciate your offer, you need to rest and regenerate your blood supply before I bite you again.”

                Virgil let out an audible sigh of relief. “Good. ‘Cuz that was actually pretty intense.”

                Even though Logan smiled, it didn’t last long. It faded as he leaned back against the chair, staring tiredly at the coffee table. “Annaliese is what some call a pureblooded vampire, born from pure, direct descendants of the first vampires that lived in the mortal realm.”

                “Yikes,” Virgil breathed, his hands still gripping Logan’s shoulders. “So that makes her… stronger than you?” He paused, then asked, “You’re _not_ a pureblooded vampire?”

                Logan hesitated. “My mother was… but my father was human. My mother changed him, of course. But his blood was… thinner than hers.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “As a result, I’m… in some ways, weaker than Annaliese.”

                Virgil was quiet for a moment. Logan didn’t turn to see his expression. Something in his stomach knotted at the thought of what he might see. Sadness… pity… frustration. None of those things sounded pleasant. So Logan stared straight ahead, watching the kitchenette as the sound of Roman’s gentle singing came from the bathroom over the sound of running water. Listening carefully, Logan could hear the sound of Patton crying ever so softly… Roman was singing to cover the sound, but Logan was an excellent listener.

                “You…” Virgil’s voice tore Logan’s thoughts away from Patton, and he glanced over where Virgil’s thigh leaned on the arm of the chair. “You’ve never really… talked about your dad before.”

                “I don’t like to,” Logan said briskly, a sharp stabbing pain registering below his ribcage. “It’s… an uncomfortable topic.”

                “Oh…” Virgil paused, then leaned over until his head was resting on Logan’s. “Can I just ask… did he hurt you? Was he bad?”

                Logan took a deep, painful breath. “No. He was… a wonderful father. He loved my mother and I… very much.”

                Virgil’s hand on his shoulder tightened a bit. “Then… what –”

                “He was killed,” Logan said quickly, eager to finish the conversation. “Either by Lord Carron… or my mother. I’ll never be sure. And that fact still haunts me.”

                Without warning, Virgil enveloped Logan in an awkward, sideways hug that was surely uncomfortable… even so, Logan accepted it. Physical reassurance hadn’t been provided to him in quite some time… it was almost jarring how much it made him feel. He wrapped his arms around Virgil and pulled him close, inhaling the scent of his laundry detergent, cologne… and blood. Logan held him tighter.

                “I’m sorry,” Virgil murmured into Logan’s hair. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

                “Don’t be,” Logan said softly. “His killer is gone.”

                Virgil gripped Logan’s shirt tight as he breathed, “So… Annaliese is the only crazy person left. And you’re not strong enough to beat her.”

                Logan smiled, sliding a hand along Virgil’s thigh and pulling him closer so he didn’t fall off the chair. The result was a slightly amused Virgil in his lap, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow and sly smile. Logan cupped his cheek and kissed him gently, pulling back to whisper, “I’m more intelligent than I look, Virgil. I’m sure I can outsmart her.”

                With a laugh, Virgil kissed him again. “If anybody can outsmart a crazy person, it’d be you.”

                Quirking an eyebrow, Logan narrowed his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

                “You should,” Virgil grinned. “You’re the hottest nerd I know.”

                Feeling a budding warmth in his chest, Logan couldn’t hold back a smile as Virgil ducked his kiss him again. That warmth… that _life_ … Logan would cling to it. Cherish it. Protect it as long as he could. And if he had to die… if he had to sacrifice himself to keep Virgil safe... then that was a sacrifice Logan was willing to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enough tiptoeing through the tulips; it's time to get serious.  
> The thing is... how can you beat someone who has you outmatched at every turn?  
> Not even Logan knows the answer to that one...
> 
> See you next chapter.


	12. Chapter 11

                Gripping the steering wheel anxiously, Patton watched the road. It was a perfect day… not a clue in the blue, autumn sky. The trees rustled in the chilly breeze, and auburn leaves skittered across the street as Patton drove quietly. It was beautiful… and yet, Patton was uneasy.

                “Darling,” Roman said in the passenger seat, his hands coming to rest on Patton’s thigh. He’d been watching Patton since they got into the car. Patton didn’t remove his eyes from the road, and Roman let out a longsuffering sigh. “Patton, my angel, my love… I know you’re upset.”

                “I’m not upset,” Patton lied quickly. He took a sharp breath and winced, feeling his mending ribs ache painfully. “I’m just tired.”

                “And in pain?” Roman asked, his hand brushing the bandage that was taped over the scratches on Patton’s cheek. Patton shied away from the touch, and Roman respectfully withdrew his hand. “It’s perfectly reasonable to be afraid, darling.”

                “I’m _not,_ ” Patton lied again as he pulled into the parking lot of the drug store. He parked the car and dropped his hands into his lap. “I’m… tired.”

                Roman wasn’t convinced. He watched Patton with narrowed, knowing eyes. “My love… you can tell me the truth.” Patton was quiet. Roman reached over to touch his thigh again. “Because… I’d honestly be baffled if you _weren’t_ scared.”

                Patton hesitated, pride bubbling in his chest for a fraction of a second, only to feel it shudder and crumble beneath the weight of everything. He looked to Roman with exhaustion glimmering in his eyes. “It was scary,” he whispered. “I don’t remember all of it… but I remember… you…”

                Roman smiled, but there wasn’t any joy in the expression. There was pity… and loneliness. Patton wanted to erase that. To make him feel better. He just didn’t know how.

                Roman reached up a hand to ghost over Patton’s cheek, hardly touching him as he smiled so softly, he might’ve been saying his final goodbye. Patton didn’t dare look away as Roman breathed, “I didn’t know what to do with myself… I’d be broken without you.”

                Patton’s breath caught, just a hint of a sob before he leaned his face into Roman’s cold, waiting hand. “I’m… I’m here,” he said, just a hint of amusement in his voice as he smiled at his lover. “I was… afraid that you’d be gone… when she threw you like that.”

                Roman blinked slowly, the genuine wonder and warmth coming back to his eyes as he said, “She’d have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”

                Finally letting out a laugh, Patton leaded across the car to pull Roman into a hug. They’d come to refresh their first-aid supplies. It was meant to be a simple trip… and yet, it had become an emotional experience. A mutual exchange of love… and fear. They both didn’t want to face the fact that, regardless of the outcome, they had been close to separation. A second too late, a movement too soon... and Patton could have been killed.

                The only thing that kept Patton alive last night was Logan’s desperation and Annaliese’s malcontent for him.

                “I was scared,” Patton breathed, his hands grasping at Roman as he held him as close as he could in their awkward, pivoted embrace. Roman hummed, and Patton closed his eyes tight. “I… I’m scared, Roman. I’m scared.”

                “Of what, darling?” Roman asked, his voice low and serious. There wasn’t a hint of beguiled enjoyment or flirtatiousness. Just pure concern. It made Patton’s heart drip with emotion… but it stung, so, so much. Roman pat his back softly and murmured, “What must I do to make you feel content in my arms?”

                “I’m scared of losing you,” Patton whispered into the crook of Roman’s shoulder. “I’m scared… that Annaliese will come for me again. That she’ll take me away.” He paused, opening his eyes to look out the window of the car. Fall leaves fluttered down from the trees, swept up in the fall breeze and burning through the cold air with trails of red. Patton closed his eyes. “I’ve been killed by a Carron before… I don’t want to be killed again.”

                Roman’s arms tightened around him, and the amusement in his voice didn’t match the trembling of his hands. “Is such a thing possible?”

                “I don’t know,” Patton murmured, his breath warm on the cold of Roman’s skin. He bit his lip and pressed himself closer, “But if I die… I want you to know –”

                Roman interrupted. “You won’t, Patton.”

                “But if I do –”

                “You _won’t_ ,” Roman assured him, his embrace tight and his voice steady. “I may not be able to stop her… but you _know_ Logan wouldn’t allow her to come for you again. You know that.”

                “I love you,” Patton said softly, his voice just a hollow shell of what it once was. Roman wouldn’t let him say goodbye… so this was the best he could do. Just in case Annaliese returned. Just in case she took him again. Just in case the world crumbled beneath their feet… Patton didn’t want to leave any of it unsaid. He took a shuddering breath, and a few hot tears rolled down his cheeks. “I love you… so much.”

+++++

                Logan drew his hands through Virgil’s hair. Soft, careful and barely touching him… a nearly reverent display. It wasn’t love… was it? It was something… baser. Something so simple, Logan couldn’t quite narrow down his thoughts to the emotion. It was something that told Logan to keep this person safe. To watch over him in each tense moment. Each unknowing step. Each unsteady breath.

                It was nearly suffocating, this emotion. Whatever it was. Whatever he dared not say out loud. It was probably similar to how Roman felt about Patton and vice versa. That worshipful, desperate display of affection… a string pulled so taut, it might just snap.

                Lifting himself from Virgil’s side, Logan quickly slipped off of the sofa and took a step back. This left Virgil asleep and alone on the sofa, dressed in nothing but Logan’s dress shirt that was unbuttoned and exposing the entire expanse of his stomach and chest. Logan cocked his head to the side, seeing the red, blushing marks of his own desperate bites along Virgil’s side. He hadn’t broken the skin… but it was enough to leave unmistakable reminders of that mornings escapades on his skin.

                Taking a blanket from Patton’s bed, Logan draped it over Virgil. This would at least give him some modesty should Roman and Patton venture upstairs before Virgil had a chance to dress himself. Once the blanket made contact with his skin, Virgil took a sharp breath and stirred a bit, gripping the blanket and pulling it close as he curled in on himself. Logan watched this unconscious action with soft interest; he was so small, this way. So vulnerable in human skin. What was it like to be so fragile? So expendable in the world? Logan reached down to brush the purple-dyed hair from Virgil’s face, lingering ever so slightly as he watched Virgil’s eyelids flutter.

                Taking a step back, Logan pushed his hands into his pockets and went down the stairs slowly, his mind melting down to one heavy, burning thought: Annaliese. She was still lingering in the town, somewhere, wreaking havoc wherever she and her insanity-driven army decided to go. The local newspaper had reported no less than four disappearances since the body of a dead college student had been discovered by the dorms.

                At least four students were out and about in the form of mindless, bloodthirsty ghouls. And that was just the number that Logan was _aware_ of… there could have been so many more. So many other innocent children swept into the circus of Annaliese’s crazed whims. Logan needed to find them… but before he could, he needed to put a stop to Annaliese’s madness.

                Taking a seat on the sofa, Logan pursed his lips and stared at the coffee table pensively. He could try to get the better of her, like he had with her father… but Annaliese was no fool. She was sharp and coy. At least… she had been when he’d known her. Things may have changed. It wouldn’t be surprising if they had… after all, she’d only had her mental breakdown recently. She could be more unstable that Logan knew.

                The front door unlocked and swung open, drawing Logan from his thoughts, and he glanced up to see Patton and Roman shuffle over the threshold. Patton held a bag full of… Logan arched an eyebrow; they were bandages. Many, many bandages and disinfectant creams. Did he plan on getting more injuries? Logan settled back into his seat and didn’t comment. Patton was scared of the possibility of being forced into another change. It was a viable fear. One that he could almost relate to. Almost.

                “Logan,” Roman said, almost surprised to see him in the living room. Logan quirked an eyebrow, and Roman gave him an interested look. “I’m surprised you’re awake.”

                “I’m not tired yet,” Logan lied. His morning row with Virgil had left him a little wobbly… and his head was heavy with fatigue. But he didn’t dare sleep. He needed to think. “I’m trying to think of what to do with Annaliese.”

                Patton paused in the doorway, giving Logan a long look. When Logan didn’t acknowledge it, Patton took his new purchases upstairs quietly. Roman stayed in the living room, watching Logan carefully. The silence was smothering, but Logan didn’t speak. He simply steepled his fingers under his chin and mulled strategies.

                Sneaking up on her would be risky at best, and the outcome could be volatile at the least. She wouldn’t fall for false flattery; he’d made his distaste of her very clear. Unless she welcomed death with open arms, like Emily, Logan struggled to think of a way to best her.

                “So?” Roman asked, pulling Logan from his musings. “What will you do?”

                Logan gave him a sidelong glance before looking away. “I’m not sure.”

                “Can you even overpower her?” Roman asked, his voice pitched more toward irritated confusion than innocent curiosity. Logan didn’t bother to look at him, and Roman stepped into the living room, pacing the carpeted floor with muted, hushed footsteps as he thought aloud. “From what I saw in that warehouse… you are sorely outmatched.”

                “I am,” Logan admitted crossly.

                “And she has an army of ghouls at her disposal. Not even _you_ could take on a large number of them, can you?” Roman didn’t wait for a response, and he charge onward. “If you _can’t_ , then she’ll just go on, making ghouls and causing havoc… you know that, don’t you?”

                “I do,” Logan muttered as he glared at the coffee table.

                Roman stopped pacing and huffed. “Then what will you do?”

                “I don’t know.”

                “You don’t _know_?” Roman asked incredulously as he threw his hands into the air and shook his head. He gestured blindly to the stairs. “What about Patton? He’d prime bait for that madwoman!”

                Logan didn’t respond.

                “What about _Virgil_?” Roman asked pointedly, Logan lifted his head and gave Roman a dark look, but the wraith ignored it. “She took him once. Are you just going to allow her to do it again?”

                Opening his mouth to fight back, Logan paused; would he even be able to stop her if she tried to take Virgil away? Would he stand a chance? Probably not. Because even at his best, he was no match for someone who had been born and bred as a perfect nether-creature. Clamping his mouth shut, Logan stood up and walked to the window, pulling open the curtains.

                Sunlight washed over him, and he winced and stepped back, feeling the burn of light on his skin. He wasn’t used to being awake this early in the day… the light was a little jarring. He pulled the curtain shut once more, turning to give Roman an irritated glance. Roman merely raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest.

                “Well?” Roman asked, obviously waiting for a solution to drop into his lap. “What will you do?”

                Logan almost laughed at the question. “What will I do?” He echoed owlishly before holding a hand to his head. He rubbed his temple tiredly, grimacing down at the floor. “What will _I_ do? Because it all falls on me, doesn’t it? All of this mess… all of Annaliese’s delusions… they fall on my shoulders, don’t they?”

                Roman twitched and adjusted his footing uneasily. “That’s not what I –”

                “Because, of _course_ , who else will stop her?” Logan asked, spreading his arms wide in a frustrated display. Roman blinked and looked away, catching his meaning. “ _You_ certainly can’t do anything, can you, Roman? A tortured spirit isn’t going to do anything against her. Patton can’t stop her; he’d too weak. He’d just get himself killed.” Logan laughed, but there wasn’t any feeling in it. It was a bitter sound, caught in his throat as he tried to steer around the inevitable. “Picani, the alchemist? He wouldn’t step out of the safety of his shop. What fool would involve himself in the affairs of vampires? The same goes for Virgil’s friend, Remy.” Logan paced the floor, feeling the bubbling irrational fear of his own conclusion sneaking up on him. “The only other vampire near us is Dmitri… but he hasn’t played in the affairs of others for years. He made that clear when we first moved into town. The only person willing and able to stand in Annaliese’s way is—”

                “You.” Virgil finished pointedly.

                Logan’s gaze snapped up from the floor, meeting Virgil’s cold, gray stare where he stood on the stairs. Patton was behind him, leaning heavily against the wall with an expression that spelled out defeat. Virgil descended the last few steps and shuffled into the living room. He’d dressed himself quickly, throwing on a pair of Logan’s wrinkled trousers and hastily buttoning the dress shirt he’d donned earlier that morning. He looked perfectly rumpled… but Logan was in no mood to comment on it.

                Virgil came to a stop in front of Logan, their eyes catching and holding as Virgil slipped a hand into Logan’s. “You’re just… going to dive in, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question. Logan didn’t answer. Virgil frowned. “You don’t even have a plan.”

                “I have a general outline of a plan,” Logan lied loosely. “I know she wants to kill me… after all,” he sighed, “I killed her father.”

                Virgil let out a disbelieving sigh. “So you’re… you’re just giving up? You’re gonna hand yourself over like… like what? Some kind of morbid peace-offering?”

                Logan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think she’d even accept a peace offering.”

                Virgil ripped his hand away from Logan’s and threw his arms in the air. “Then what the _hell_ are you giving yourself up for?”

                Logan sighed. “Virgil –”

                “No! It wouldn’t accomplish anything!” Virgil shouted as he gave Logan a hard shove. It barely phased Logan, but he took a step back nonetheless. Virgil looked betrayed when he glared up at Logan, all sharp eyes and bitter words as he spoke in earnest. “I thought you said you could outsmart her. You _said_ you could figure out some way… some way to –”

                “You cannot predict unpredictability, Virgil,” Logan interrupted, surprising himself with the softness in his words. “I can’t outsmart a woman I no longer know.”

                Virgil let out a tired breath. “So… so yesterday morning was… what? You were just lying to make me feel better?” Logan opened his mouth to deny it, but Virgil cut him off by asking, “Were you trying to pacify me so I wouldn’t get all _emotional_ on you?”

                Logan pressed his lips together in a tight line, looking to Roman or Patton for assistance. Neither came to his defense. No one liked the ultimate conclusion to the conversation… or the issue. Logan was on the chopping block either way.

                “If I lied,” Logan said gently. “It was partially for my own sake.” He met Virgil’s gaze, catching a glimmer of fear in those defiant eyes. Logan straightened his glasses with a steady hand. “I don’t think _anyone_ can easily accept marching to their own defeat.”

                “B-but,” Virgil sputtered, looking around the room for a lifeline as he struggled to fight Logan. “We can… w-we can… figure something out. If we all… if we…”

                “Virgil,” Logan said softly, watching the way Virgil shook his head and stepped back.

                “No! No, we just… we just started this thing.” Virgil indicated to the two of them, as if that would adequately summarize whatever it was they were to each other. Logan felt his chest ache, but he didn’t say anything as Virgil looked up at him helplessly. “You can’t just… just give up like that. You said… you _said_ …”

                “Virgil,” Logan said once more as he reached out to pull Virgil into a hug.

                Virgil didn’t accept the embrace quietly. He growled and stomped his feet like a frustrated child, ready to burst at the seams with this discourse of action. Logan held him anyway, staring over the top of Virgil’s head and watching the wall as Virgil leaned into him. More weight pressed against him, desperate and clinging, and Logan closed his eyes, drinking in the sensation. It was warmth. Love. Fear. All of it rolled together in a discomforting, burning display that left Logan feeling… empty. And hollow.

                “You said…” Virgil whimpered as he gripped Logan’s shift and held fast. “You said you… you wouldn’t…”

                “I’m sorry,” Logan breathed, feeling Virgil shudder in his arms. The apology was little consolation. It would do nothing to change the conclusion he’d drawn. It would do nothing to stop Annaliese. Even so, he said it. As if it meant something. As if it could _do_ anything. “I’m sorry.”

                As if there was any hope at all.

+++++

                Logan licked his lips as he tied his tie, front over back and pulling the sapphire-blue silk through until it was a perfect Windsor knot. Virgil lay asleep in Logan’s coffin. He’d tried valiantly to stay awake… but as the day wore into night, Virgil’s unhappy grumbling had turned to sleepy whispers, and instead of sitting up in Logan’s coffin, he reclined until he was curled against the satin lining. His phone had slipped from his fingers when he’d fallen asleep, and Logan set it aside as he pressed a kiss to Virgil’s temple.

                Pulling on a suitcoat, Logan looked at himself in the mirror. He looked… uneasy. Not terrified, no… just anxious. He was meeting with death, after all… a meeting from which he would never return. It was a sordid affair. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave Virgil one last, sorry look.

                It was regrettable that he had to leave in secret… but Virgil wouldn’t let him go otherwise. He smoothed the front of his tie as he stepped out of his bedroom and shut the door gently behind himself. He wasn’t surprised to see Roman on the sofa, waiting for him with a disapproving frown.

                He was, however, surprised by Patton’s appearance in the living room as well.

                “I can only assume you’re leaving,” Roman said unhappily where he sat on the sofa with his legs crossed and expression unimpressed. Logan gave him a curt nod, and Patton fluttered his hands anxiously.

                “You… you’re not even going to say goodbye?” He asked gently. He looked wounded on Virgil’s behalf, not that Logan could blame him. “I think… I think Virgil would appreciate a goodbye.”

                “I wrote him a letter,” Logan said carefully as he fished a paper out of his pocket. He stepped forward and held the note out to Patton. “If I don’t return by morning, which is very likely, I’d like you to give it to him when he wakes up.”

                Patton looked at the note, giving it a wide-eyed, frightened look, but didn’t take it. “You… you’re really going through with this, aren’t you?” He lifted his head to meet Logan’s steely gaze, and shook his head a bit, still baffled. “You’re just going to… hand yourself over?”

                Logan took a breath, “I’ve lived a fine life… and if this could… _appease_ Annaliese, then so be it.”

                “Like _hell_ you’ve lived your life,” Roman snapped as he uncrossed his legs and sat forward to point at Logan accusingly. “You’ve barely even _started_ living. You have a beautiful young man who _loves_ you, who _wants_ you… and you’re just throwing it away to play martyr of the century.”

                Logan gave Roman a sidelong look as he shoved the letter into Patton’s trembling hands. “I don’t need a lecture, Roman. I know what I’m doing.”

                “No, you don’t!” Roman argued, his voice raising as he stood up. “This is _not_ how this is supposed to happen!”

                “Lower your voice,” Logan said steadily as he held up his hands and tried to sit Roman down once more, “You’ll wake Virgil.”

                “To hell with waking Virgil!” Roman barked as he slapped Logan’s hands away. “If you _dare_ think that you’re doing this… _sacrificing_ yourself in the name of love? That’s bullshit.”

                Logan grimaced. “Roman –”

                “It’s bullshit, Logan!” Roman insisted, giving Logan a good shove. It didn’t do anything, but Roman still looked fired up as he said, “A real man would stand his ground. Fight her. Win the day!”

                “I can’t!” Logan hissed as he leaned into Roman’s personal space. “I _can’t_ win, Roman! No matter what way I twist it, no matter what scheme I concoct… she’ll win. She will _always_ have the upper hand. No matter… what I do…” Logan’s irritated flame snuffed out as he took a step back and took a calming breath. “I can’t _beat_ Annaliese. So I need to give in… and give her what she wants.”

                Roman looked oddly subdued as he breathed, “You’re… you’re not the same man you used to be.”

                “No,” Logan admitted as he adjusted his glasses and looked away. “I suppose I’m not.” Looking to Patton, he held out his hand. Patton startled at the gesture, jumping up from his chair to take Logan’s hand and shake it as Logan murmured, “Patton… if, over these years, I had wanted anything from you… it would have been some sort of comradery.”

                “We were,” Patton said, stupefied. “I mean… are! We _are_ friends, Logan, I… I thought… after all this time…” Patton’s words trailed off uneasily, and Logan could see tears brimming in those wide, hazel eyes. Logan smiled.

                “Then it’s been a pleasure working with you, Patton. I have… enjoyed our years together.”

                Patton could hardly hold back a whimper as Logan dropped his hand. “Me, too… I…”

                When Logan fished into his pocket and pressed a key into his hand, Patton’s words halted in their tracks. Logan cleared his throat. “This is the key to my safety deposit box. In twelve years’ time, you should pack up everything of value and find a new home. The money in this account should help fund your move.”

                Patton looked up at him, startled. It was really settling in. He finally understood that Logan wasn’t planning to come home.

                Logan turned to roman, offering the startled ghost his hand. “Roman,” he started, waiting for Roman’s cold, unsteady hand to take his own. Roman visibly struggled to keep corporeal. He wasn’t expecting goodbyes. He wasn’t prepared. That was fine… neither was Logan. He was _not_ a sentimental man. Even so… he felt his chest tighten as he said, “I expect you to care for Patton, as you always have. And… watch over my house, if you would. And the cemetery.”

                “Of… of course,” Roman mumbled, clearly at a loss for words. “Of course I will.”

                Even after that agreement, Logan didn’t let go of Roman’s hand… he lingered for a moment, squeezing Roman’s hand as he asked for one last favor. “And… one more thing, if I may.”

                Roman let out a breathless laugh, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “Good god, what else could you possibly need?”

                Logan met Roman’s eye and held his gaze as he said, “Please look after Virgil. Make sure… make sure nothing happens to him, in my stead.”

                Swallowing thickly, Roman flickered out of corporality, appearing again to wrap his arms around Logan and pull him into a hug. “This is cruel,” he breathed against Logan’s shoulder as he held him tight. Logan held still in the hug, stiff and unsure… only to felt his heart ache once more as Roman whispered, “It took all these years… to learn you actually have a heart.”

                Logan pat Roman’s back once, and he was released, stepping back to admire his… friends. For the last time, it seemed. Logan raised his chin and took a deep breath, feeling his every muscle… every fiber of his being… _beg_ him to stay with Virgil. He wanted to stay with him. Curl around Virgil and keep him safe from the world. But that would only do more harm than good.

                When Logan descended the stairs and walked to the front door, Roman and Patton followed him. Maybe they wanted to watch him go. Maybe they wanted to cling to him until the last possible second. Either way… it was comforting. Like an old-fashioned send-off at the pier, with people waving and cheering as he was sent on his way.

                But the end came without cheers. It came without kisses goodbye and without hats waving in the air as Logan set off. It was quiet. And forlorn. Logan opened the front door, looking over his shoulder at Roman and Patton as they leaned into one another and watched him with tearful expressions.

                “I’ll be off, then,” Logan said shakily, feeling his own fear bubble in his chest.

                Silent seconds dragged passed, and the quiet was only broken Logan started to close the door.

                “P-please!” Patton asked, his voice cracking halfway through the word. Logan paused, the door nearly completely shut as Patton’s voice echoed in the still night air. “Please… please come home. Please… if you don’t… it’ll break Virgil’s heart… it’ll… I…”

                Logan could make a false promise. He could say that he would, in fact, come home. But that would be cruel for both sides of the door. So, instead, he shut the door quietly, cutting off the last of Patton’s wobbly statement. From there, he looked up at the night sky.

                He’d looked up at those same stars with Virgil, once. Quiet and content in their closeness. Now he was alone in the night, feeling the chill of autumn as he buttoned his coat and made his way down the sidewalk.

                He wasn’t sure where Annaliese was. She could be two towns over… but that would be too much work on her behalf. Bringing all those ghouls to another town every night would be exhausting. No… she was there, somewhere in town. Nestled between houses and graves and lurking in each unhappy shadow. Logan didn’t mind the suspicion. He tried to remain calm as he walked leisurely down the streets, reminiscing over the few memories he had in the town.

                He’d saved Virgil from a ghoul, there… it had been Amanda Cole. But they hadn’t learned that until later. Her body had been discovered the other day… and there was no evidence that pointed to her death. And, though there was Virgil’s blood on the flowers… they had no way to know it was _Virgil’s_ blood. So the information was inconclusive.

                He walked further, time stretching by as the earth turned and the stars watched on. He passed the dorms, eyeing the police tape that marked off the small forest behind them. A young man had been killed there… Logan didn’t even know who that one was. Nor did he want to know. It was better left as a mystery… a nameless face rather than a life that Logan had to feel guilty for.

                Continuing on, Logan passed Emile Picani’s herbal remedy shop. The quarter moon reflected on the windows eerily, and the light caught the spark of crystal charms that deterred nether-creatures. A protective charm that Logan could only _hope_ would be unnecessary in the coming days.

                Without thought, Logan had made his way back to the construction site… back to where he’d saved Virgil just a two days before. Back when he learned that Annaliese was, in fact, insane. He walked through the unsettled dirt quietly, watching the dust cloud around every step as he made his way back to the warehouse. It was the only place he could think of her being… and to his luck, she was waiting for him in that large, open doorway.

                From the looks of it, Annliese had pried the doors open with her bare hands, leaving the metal wrenched and bent at odd angles to make room for her petite frame. She leaned against the metal, watching Logan approach quietly. Clad in a plain red dress that clashed oddly with her auburn-dyed hair, he stood barefoot and complacent in the doorway as Logan came to a stop a few liberal feet away.

                “Good evening, Mr. Stein,” she said softly. Logan gave her a nod.

                “Ms. Carron,” he said curtly. His stomach was still wrenched with anger at the sight of her. He still wanted to rip out her throat for what she had done. And yet… he needed to play his cards wisely. If done correctly, he could bargain his life… for the safety of Roman, Patton, and Virgil. But only if he were to tread carefully. “I’m surprised you came here.”

                Annaliese quirked an eyebrow. “I could say the same to you,” she murmured as she turned and slipped into the warehouse, taking long, leisurely steps. Logan followed her. There wasn’t any rush, now. They both knew why they were here. Annaliese glanced back at him over her shoulder. “I’m… honestly surprised, Logan.” She stopped. Pivoted on her foot. And then gave him an interested look. “I _would_ ask if you’ve changed your mind... if you’ve come to help me… but I can tell that you haven’t.”

                Logan quirk an eyebrow curiously. “Oh?”

                “It’s that human,” Annaliese said, without a hint of malice in her voice. In fact, she sounded mildly melancholic. “You _reek_ of him… I can tell you’re close.” She paused, giving Logan a long look. “I’ll admit, I didn’t peg you for a man’s man.”

                Reaching up a hand, Logan noticed the way Annaliese tensed in preparation for an attack, only to relax when he adjusted his glasses calmly. “I tend to keep my preferences… private.”

                “I’d say you were successful. I never knew.” Annaliese laughed lightly as she turned and started walking again. Logan followed.

                It was odd… almost like when Logan had met Emily, back in Oklahoma. When she had been waiting for death… greeting Logan with open arms as he held a gun to her head. Now, it was the opposite. His world had flipped, and now he was the one anticipating his death, itching for Annaliese to pull the trigger and end the anxious roiling of his stomach. And yet… she played coy. Dodging the real reason they were there, and straying ever-so-slightly into other topics.

                “I don’t blame you, you know… for falling in love,” she said it so softly, Logan might’ve believed he’d just imagined it. But no, he’d seen her lips move around the words, gentle and honest as she trailed her fingers along the cold steel of a crate. She walked on, continuing to talk… to Logan, or herself? Logan wasn’t sure. “They have a… a certain charm, don’t you think? A… fragile, chemical draw.”

                Logan’s brow furrowed. “I suppose.”

                “I fell in love with a human, too… not that long ago.” Annaliese didn’t stop walking, though Logan’s footsteps stuttered. She had… what? Why was she telling him this? He was quick to resume his pace as Annaliese continued. “I had run from England all those years ago… content in living alone. I’ve been here, in this little town, for so long, I… I thought I’d simply melt away. And then I met him. His name was Trevor. He was intelligent… charismatic… brooding.” She paused, and laughed a little when she said, “Honestly, he… he reminded me a bit of you, Logan.”

                “I see,” Logan said lowly, eyeing her warily as she went on.

                “I loved him, Logan… I even thought of changing him… keeping him with me.” She looked up, staring into the darkness of the warehouse as she murmured, “And then… you came.”

                Logan stopped walking again, and this time, Annaliese stopped with him, watching him carefully as he repeated, “I came?”

                Annaliese nodded. “You came into this town without a care in the world… with a ghoul in tow, no less.” She stopped, blinking slowly as she looked down at the ground. “I… I realized… that it was _your_ fault I was alone all those years. It was _you_ that took my family… my father, my sister… and my step-mother.” She lifted her eyes and met Logan’s confused stare damningly. “You killed them and left me with nothing… and I had almost resorted to changing a _human_ for comfort.”

                “You…” Logan paused, letting his brain catch up with the conversation. “You’re saying –“

                “I was so _lonely_ … and angry… Trevor tried to console me, but…” she frowned, and it sent a spark of irritation through her entire frame. Logan took a step back as Annaliese growled. “But he was so _human_. And _stupid_. He didn’t understand. No one could… no _human_ could possibly…” Her expression turned oddly peaceful as she looked at Logan. “So, I killed him. I tore him to pieces. And it felt good.”

                Logan shook his head, feeling the weight of all those needless deaths and all of the unnecessary pain settle on his shoulders. It burned. It constricted around his lungs as he fought to take a breath.

                “I realized it,” Annaliese said gently. “Because you came to town… with your ghoul and your ghost. You were… happy. And I was so, _so_ lonely…” her smile turned a little disillusioned as she looked down at her own hands. “but I knew how to set things right. I needed to… to live up to my father’s expectations. I needed to make a world… _his_ world… so I wouldn’t be lonely.”

                Logan took a shaky, perturbed breath. “All of this… _all of this_ … started because of me?”

                “You opened my eyes, Logan. You made see what I had to do,” She lifted her eyes, and Logan saw terrified tears glimmering in those emerald eyes. “I needed to make a world for nether-creatures… and them alone. I knew how… I knew how to do it. So, I started… and… it felt… so terrible. I… I feel so… _dirty_ , I… I…”

                “You feel dirty,” Logan said, his voice dripping with distain. What did she want? Sympathy? Compassion? She had passed the mark for compassion long ago. She had made her bed. It was time for her to lie in it.

                Annaliese clenched her hands, her expression turning a little desperate as she said, “I… I didn’t think it would be like _this_. I didn’t think… it would hurt.”

                Logan shook his head, the pain in his chest growing as he took a step back. “You killed at _least_ half a dozen people… and _you’re_ in pain?” He glared at Annaliese, burning past the shame in her eyes and baring down until he could meet the eyes of a madwoman. “What about their families? What about the lives they could have lived?”

                “What about _me_?” Annaliese cried, the tears flowing easily as she gestured to herself desperately. Logan was unmoved, and her tears turned anger as she shouted, “I deserve to be happy! But I can’t, can I?”

                Without warning, she rushed forward, gripping Logan’s throat and slamming him against the nearest metal crate. Logan felt the _crack_ of his skull against metal. The bite of his teeth into his tongue, and the rush of blood as it dripped down to the base of his skull. He opened his eyes, and the warehouse was spinning. His glasses were gone, lost somewhere in the movement. He could barely see Annaliese glaring where she held up against the crate.

                “I could have had a family,” she growled, somehow sounding crazed and frightened all at once. “I could have _belonged_. I could have been _loved_. You… you took that away. Why?” Logan’s tongue was numb. He didn’t think to answer. Annaliese pulled him forward, then slammed him against the crate again, screeching, “ _Why?_ ”

                Choking on the blood that filled his mouth – when did that happen? – Logan coughed and sent black blood spattering over Annaliese’s face. She didn’t seem bothered. She didn’t even react beyond a slight wince.

                “Your… your father,” Logan managed to gasp around a thick mouthful of blood. “Your father… was… insane.” Annaliese’s expression darkened, and Logan managed to swallow and spit out the statement, “He would’ve… killed us all.”

                Releasing her hold on Logan, Annaliese let Logan crumple to the floor. He coughed and gasped, holding a hand to the back of his head, feeling the seams of his skull heal as he shakily found his bearings. Annaliese didn’t let him catch his breath for long, choosing to pull back her leg and kick him in square in the side.

                Logan went _flying_ across the warehouse, and he was hardly able to brace himself as he connected with the steel supporting beam of the structure. He felt the _crack_ of his spine against the metal… then a numbness that spread through his limbs. Paralysis, however temporary, set in as he dropped to the floor in a graceless heap.

                “Death would’ve been better than this!” Annaliese cried, her tears ringing through her words as Logan blinked sluggishly at his hazy, whirling surroundings, hardly able to see where she was as she cross the warehouse. She was coming toward him… but it was a mystery how long it would take for her to reach him. Her voice was as unstable as her mentality as she whimpered, “It would’ve been better than settling for a _human_ mate. It would’ve been better than this _feeling_!”

                Without much else to say, Logan closed his eyes and breathed, “You’re insane.”

                Hands gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling his slack form from the floor as Annaliese brought him to her eye level. She held him there, glaring at his drooping eyelids and ragged breaths. She didn’t even flinch as she drew back one hand… and punched it through his ribcage. Logan thanked whatever deities existed that he was paralyzed and unable to feel the pain. It was simply a pressure that built… a slow, slipping feeling as his breath caught and his lungs refused to contract.

                “And it was _you_ ,” Annaliese growled as she pulled her hand back and showed him the black blood that stained her skin. It painted her arm all the way up to her elbow. Logan couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t think. He gaped, trying in vain to take a breath as Annaliese dropped him, letting him crumple on the floor. “You were the one who this from me. Who took my family.”

                While his torso fought to mend itself, Logan managed to gasp, “He… _hated_ … us… both…!”

                “Don’t you think I _know_ that?” Annaliese howled as she gave Logan’s side another swift kick.

                This time, he was sent tumbling across the floor, making a hard connection with the wall of the warehouse. When he opened his eyes, he saw the black splatter of his floor marking the wall. It was strange. He’d never wished for death before… but now he was _craving_ it. _Hoping_ that her next blow would be the last. _Praying_ that this next pain… this next feeling… would be the only one he’d have to endure.

                “I used to _love you_ , Logan,” Annaliese said as she crossed the floor of the warehouse. Logan let his eyes flutter shut. He didn’t want to think of her. He didn’t want Annaliese to be the last person on his mind before he died. Instead, he thought of Virgil. Virgil’s soft hair falling over his forehead as he slept. Virgil laughing at Logan’s expense when he accidently bit Virgil too hard. Virgil sighing and moaning in pleasure… he wanted to think of _Virgil_. Annaliese’s voice cut through those thoughts. “I used to look up to you… and then you killed my family.”

                He’d killed them for good reason… and while he _should_ have killed Annaliese, that window of opportunity had been small… and he’d missed it entirely. Now, she was a force to be reckoned with, insane and itching for vengeance that would never satisfy her.

                Opening his eyes, Logan saw Annaliese’s hazy form looming over him, all red… red dress, red hair… where did the red end and where did Annaliese begin? Red blood, red blood… Virgil’s blood. Virgil. Logan his eyes fall shut. Virgil, Virgil, Virgil… let him be safe. Let him be at home, unharmed and unaware of Logan’s disappearance. Let him be…

                “I… can’t feel happy about it,” Annaliese breathed as she knelt down and put her hands around Logan’s throat. She squeezed, and Logan didn’t struggle. “I’m not happy… I should be… but I’m… not happy…” Logan felt his windpipe cut off, and his muscles seized. The primal part of his brain shot into action, and his body struggled to accept his death. But his spinal chord hadn’t regenerated yet… he couldn’t move his arms or legs… so his jaw merely clenched as he choked for air. Annaliese’s breath was hot on his face as she gasped, “I want to feel better… I want to feel better… so I’ll… make you go away…” Logan’s eyes cracked open, and he swore he could see the tears streaming down Annaliese’s face as she sobbed, “Go away… and let me fix this world…”

                The blackness blotted out Logan’s vision, and he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness… when a voice, so far away, shouted his name. It almost sounded like Virgil… was this death? The last of his memories calling back to him? Giving him one last listen to Virgil’s voice as he slipped away back into the nether plane where he belonged?

                Annaliese’s hands on his throat disappeared, and Logan was left coughing and choking as his body kickstarted back into action. He gasped for breath, hardly able to see as he collapsed against the dirt floor. Why had she stopped? Surely, she had to know he wasn’t dead. Opening his eyes, Logan saw Annaliese watching the doorway of the warehouse. Logan frowned and let his head loll to the side, looking out at the doorway.

                Whatever or whoever was there… Logan wasn’t sure. They were too far away. He couldn’t see without his glasses. Annaliese, however, stood up and acknowledged them. Logan’s heart ached; was it Patton? Had he tried to stop this to spare Virgil’s broken heart? It was no use. Annaliese was insane. There was no reasoning with her… not with the way she felt.

                “Logan!” The voice called again, sending a bolt of electricity down Logan’s spine. “Logan, you stupid son of a bitch!”

                It was Virgil. Virgil had come for him. Patton should have stopped him. Patton should have made him stay in the house. Patton _knew_ the kind of danger Logan was walking into. And yet… Virgil was there, standing in the doorway with a defiant, hurt tone in his voice as she shouted, “You don’t get to walk out on me!”

                Logan fought to move. To reach for him. To shout to him. He couldn’t move… his spine was still mending… his voice wouldn’t work. He could only watch as Annaliese stalked toward the front of the warehouse.

                Did Virgil see her coming? Would he run? Logan was hardly able to make his arms move as he watched the scene unfold. Annaliese, in all her vampiric glory, walking toward the front of the warehouse. Intention was clear in her frame, and even without his glasses, Logan could almost see dangerous poise in her steps.

                All at once, movement sprung into action, and Annaliese _raced_ for the doorway. Logan let out a vague, strained shout, unable to put his warning into words as Annaliese dashed for Virgil. There was a short, soft scuffle… and Logan couldn’t see it. It was too far. He managed to push himself up onto his elbows, dragging his useless lower half through the dirt as he struggled to see what was happening.

                “You took my family,” Annaliese said in a tone that Logan could hair painfully well. His heart constricted; he could hear Virgil’s uneven, panicked breathing. She had him. He was scared. Virgil didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to _die_ for this. Annaliese didn’t acknowledge the cruelty as she said, “Now it’s time I did the same to you.”

                A swift movement. The brutal, visceral sound of tearing flesh. The sound of blood spattering on the ground. Logan froze. Virgil’s panicked breathing had stopped. Something heavy dropped to the floor. The world had ceased to spin. Logan’s stomach heaved; she’d killed him.

                Something… _something_ took root in him. A strange, numb feeling that left Logan feeling like a spectator in his own body. His hands clawed the dirt as he pulled himself up onto his hands and knees. His spine wasn’t completely healed, and he felt the vertebrae _snap_ and _crack_ as he dragged himself up and onto his feet.

                He looked across the warehouse, and saw a vague blur of red. Virgil’s blood… or Annaliese’s dress? He couldn’t quite tell. Either way, he bolted for the sight. He found red, seeing the flutter of the fabric, and trained his eyes on it, ignoring the ache of his eyes as he blindly reached for Annaliese.

                She sidestepped him, prepared for his attack, but she stumbled… her foot slipped on Virgil’s blood. Logan had seen the red. Avoided the splatter. He gripped the fiery plume of her hair and pulled. She screeched, tumbling and ducking to lessen the pain. Logan, brimming with anger and dripping with black blood, scratched wildly at the red. Black bloomed in place of the red, and he heard Annaliese scream again. A direct hit.

                He slashed again, feeling skin give way under the sharpness of his fingernails. More blood, thick and flowing, painted his fingers as he snarled and clawed wildly. Annaliese’s hands came up to grip his, holding his wrists as she whimpered and cowered beneath him.

                “P-please,” she sputtered, her expression nothing but a blurry, abstract rendition of a pained face done in black and red. Logan leaned forward, his teeth bared and eyes burning as Annaliese started to cry all over again. “I just… just wanted to… to make him proud…!” Logan hesitated, feeling the tremble of Annaliese’s hands as she blubbered, “I just wanted to make Father proud!”

                Logan leaned close to snarl, “You _never_ _will_ ,” before he ripped his wrist from her grip and tore open her throat.

                She gagged on blood, choking and gargling as she fought to have the word, but Logan didn’t give her the chance. He continued to claw at her, tearing through skin and hair and fabric as he raged. When he caught his breath, it was the only sound in the warehouse. The heaving, rasping sound of his breath hung in the air like a death knell. Annaliese was long dead; her breathing had stopped ages ago. Her body – what was left of it – lay limp before him.

                Logan rocked back on his heels, falling back against the dirt floor as he trembled with effort. It was over… but at what cost? He squinted over his shoulder, seeing Virgil’s body lying on the ground, lifeless and still in the dirt. Blood had started to pool around his head, giving him a strange, bloody halo as Logan crawled over to him.

                Looking down at him, Logan could see the dull, lifeless glint in Virgil’s gray eyes as they stared endlessly into nothing. Annaliese had killed him quickly, slashing open his throat and letting him bleed to death in a matter of seconds. Still… Logan could only imagine the pain he’d endured for those seconds.

                Reaching out a hand to push Virgil’s hair from his forehead, Logan frowned as something started to drip down his face. Blood? Had he cut his head sometime between nearly getting choked to death and killing Annaliese? Logan wiped at the liquid with the back of his hand, only to pause.

                It was tears. He was crying.

                Letting out a shaking breath, Logan gathered Virgil’s limp form into his arms, pressing his cheek against Virgil’s hair. He let himself cry. He rocked Virgil, breathing in his scent… what little of it lingered over the briny stench of his blood. He carefully closed those perfect, gray eyes. He kissed Virgil’s warm cheeks, carding his blood-blackened fingers through that soft, soft hair… just that morning, they had been in love. Now… Virgil was gone.

                Logan wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, holding Virgil. Cradling him and gasping through each heart wrenching second. It was physically painful to think of a day without Virgil. Sickening to think that he would never speak to him again. Another moment with Virgil was agony… a lifetime was a cruel trick of fate.

                And, beneath it all… Logan knew it was his fault. He should’ve made sure Virgil couldn’t leave the house. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve said goodbye, like Patton suggested. He should have… _should have_ … but he hadn’t. And this was the result. The ultimate prize for a fool.

                For a while, Logan simply held Virgil’s still, lifeless body to his chest, soaking in his slowly fading warmth. It hurt. Everything ached. The world, even without Annaliese, was cold and unfulfilling… as was this life. Logan closed his eyes and turned his nose into Virgil’s hair.

                He could do it… he could bring Virgil back. It could either by the miracle Virgil wanted, or a terrible curse that Logan would have to take responsibility for. There was no way to ask for permission. No way to request Virgil’s consent. He was gone… gone and fading.

                Slipping an arm under Virgil’s legs, Logan stood up… and started to walk home. He didn’t care what happened to Annaliese’s body. Surely, it would be found in the morning. His glasses would be found as well. But without his fingerprints on police record and no way to verify it was him… Logan didn’t care. Virgil’s blood would be a mystery… but if Logan was successful, it wouldn’t be anyone’s concern. His blood would be changed by the time anyone came looking for answers.

                He walked through the dark streets with Virgil supported preciously in his arms, each step gentle and steady even if Virgil couldn’t feel it. He was careful as he made his way home, picking his way through the shadows and avoiding the prying eyes of the night owls that wandered the streets, drunk or otherwise.

                It felt like a lifetime had passed when he walked up the stone path to the front door. He shouldered his way into the house, careful with Virgil’s head as he stepped inside, kicking the front door shut behind him. Once inside the house, he could recognized Patton’s tearful, regretful whimpering.

                Roman and Patton were sitting in the first-floor living room, and Patton lifted his gaze to meet Logan’s eye as he stepped into view. Logan eyed the icepack that Patton held to his head… it looked like Virgil had forced his way out of the house, leaving Patton with a veritable welt in his stead. If Logan weren’t so numb, he might’ve been surprised.

                “Logan,” Patton breathed as he looked down at Virgil’s limp frame, “I tried to…” he stopped, his brow furrowing as more tears started to roll down his cheeks. “No. No, no, no… no… not Virgil, no…” he collapsed into tears, and Logan made no move to say anything. He couldn’t bring himself to care. “It’s my fault!” Patton cried, his voice ringing off the walls eerily as Roman tried to soothe him. “I should’ve… should’ve tried harder to stop him, b-but… I… I couldn’t! I tried, but I…”

                “No! No, love, it isn’t your fault…” Roman was quick to console him, rubbing Patton’s back vigorously as he shakily said, “I’m sure… I’m sure he’s… it’s… just…” he glanced up at Logan, and their eyes met uncertainly. Roman’s gaze plead for help. Logan had none to give.

                Instead, Logan turned away, taking Virgil’s body to the body-prepping room. He laid Virgil out on the metal table, adjusting his arms and legs so they could lay flat on the table. There, on the tray to his right, was a spare pair of glasses. He put them on and washed his black, bloody hands in the sink thoroughly. He would do things right. He would follow the tradition to the letter. Three days of blood… three days of silence… three days of waiting. Logan could do that.

                Using one sharp fingernail, Logan punctured a hole in his hand, opening Virgil’s mouth to let exactly seven drops of his own blood drip into Virgil’s mouth. Then, he closed Virgil’s mouth and smeared his bloody palm over Virgil’s eyelids. That blood would have to sit until the next night… when Logan would repeat the process. Three nights. Three exact renditions. Logan nodded to himself… it was simple. It was doable. He could bring Virgil back. It only took patience… and a steady hand.

                While Patton and Roman continued to fret in the living room, Logan went through the motions of cleaning Virgil’s wounds. He left the black blood smeared across Virgil’s eyelids… from what he remembered – his memory never lied – it was crucial to the changing process. He did, however, mop up the red, dried blood around his torn throat and gaping skin. Then, once it was clean, he found a suture kit… and started to stitch his throat back together, piece by torn, bloody piece.

                He was aware that Roman was watching him from the doorway. He could feel the stare on the back of his head as he worked… but he didn’t say anything. He continued to stitch, slowly mending what Annaliese had destroyed.

                “You know,” Roman said softly, “The nurses are my hospital didn’t stitch me up. Nor did the funeral home.” There was judgement in those words. Logan didn’t look away from Virgil’s throat as he continued to work. Roman sighed, “No… they just buried me. They wanted to let the wounds fester in death, I suppose.”

                Logan didn’t look up from the sutures as he tied a knot. “Is there a point to this anecdote?”

                “He’s dead,” Roman said softly. Almost too softly. “Isn’t he?”

                “He is,” Logan said… but with a pause. Roman could sense it, and he waited until Logan said, “For now.”

                “You… you’re going to…” Roman let out a disbelieving huff. “You’ll just… bring him back. Just like that.” Logan didn’t say anything, and Roman shook his head in disapproval. “And... what if he doesn’t _want_ to be brought back? I didn’t want to be trapped on the mortal plane… but here I am.”

                When Logan didn’t turn to acknowledge him, Roman flickered into the room, looming over Logan with an authoritative air as he said, “Life after ‘the after’ is not a _gift,_ Logan. It’s a curse.”

                Logan pulled a suture taut. “Is that what you think when Patton takes you to bed?”

                Slapping the clamp out of Logan’s hands, Roman loomed closer and growled, “You _know_ what _I_ think… but this isn’t about me. This is about Virgil.”

                Finally, Logan lifted his gaze to meet Roman’s stare. Abruptly, Roman leaned back, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are… are you _crying_?”

                Swallowing thickly, Logan wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “I haven’t… really stopped since…”

                Roman let out a long, pitying sigh as he murmured, “Oh, Logan…”

                “I don’t need sympathies,” Logan said crisply as he picked up his sutures and went back to work. “I need to finish this.”

                “And… once you’re done?” Roman asked, and Logan wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. His voice was unsteady when said, “When he comes back? _If_ he comes back?”

                “He will,” Logan breathed shakily as he sniffed and wiped away another stream of tears. “He will come back.”

                Across the small body-prepping room, Roman crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. “You’re so certain.”

                “I am,” said Logan, even though his hands trembled when he pulled a stitch closed.

                “What if he doesn’t want to be a vampire?” Roman asked softly, igniting the fear in Logan’s stomach anew. “What if he resents you for this?”

                “I don’t care,” Logan murmured as he cut a suture.

                “Would it be _worth it_?” Roman asked. He was gentle with the interrogation, and yet each question cut like glass in Logan’s skin. He may as well rub salt into the wound. “Would it be worth the pain of him hating you for the rest of forever?”

                “It would be worth it,” Logan breathed as he sat back and let the tears roll down his cheeks. “To be with him… for a while longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full speed ahead, everyone.  
> We're racing to our deaths.
> 
> See you next chapter.


	13. Chapter 12

_Day 1_

                Logan watched the skies carefully, eyeing the blush of lavender and rose that edged over the horizon. He’d placed Virgil’s body in a simple casket they kept as a display. Once Virgil was comfortably laid out, Logan had brought it out into the yard, glancing at the edge of the skies over the tree line. Daybreak: the perfect, quiet moment to lay the dead rest… at least, as long as the traditions said. Rolling up his sleeves, Logan started to dig a shallow grave.

                Roman leaned against the house as Logan worked. “Need any help?”

                “No,” Logan grunted as he continued to dig. “I’ll do this on my own.”

                There was a pause filled only with the sound of sifting dirt as Logan set the shovel aside. Roman watched him pull the casket to the hole and carefully slid it into the ground. Roman cocked his head to the side, humming thoughtfully as he said, “You know… it might be easier if you let Patton or I help you…”

                “I’ll do it,” Logan said sternly as he started to shovel fresh soil onto the casket. “I will follow every description… every detail… every tradition… I will bring him back. And I’ll do it on my own.”

                Crossing his arms over his chest, Roman huffed a sigh. “You’re going to bury him… and dig him up. And then bury him again. And dig him up _again_.” Logan didn’t comment, and Roman let out an irritated groan. “This is ridiculous… can’t you bend these ‘rules?’”

                “No,” Patton’s voice called from the house. Logan lifted his eyes to see Patton lingering in the doorway, watching him dig with a sad, lonely stare. “He can’t change it. If he goes against the rules… he’ll end up turning Virgil into a ghoul.” His stare turned a little distant as he looked at the ground in confusion. “I don’t… I don’t think Emily buried me, but… she may have.”

                “Maybe she didn’t,” Logan conceded as he aggressively shoveled dirt onto the casket. Dawn was breaking… he’d finished the burial just in time. Even so, Logan still felt bitter. “Maybe she changed the amount of blood she gave you. Maybe she gave you too much… or too little. Maybe she didn’t follow the rituals _at all_ ,” Logan threw the shovel to the side, kicking the dirt as he growled, “Maybe she was just _insane_.”

                Roman quirked an eyebrow, not entirely surprised by the outburst, but didn’t move from his place against the house. Patton, however, had something to say. He wrapped his arms around himself, holding tight as he glared at Logan.

                “Now, don’t get upset with me because of this… I loved Virgil, too.” Roman spun and looked at Patton in horror, and Patton was quick to say, “He was a good friend. The only _real_ friend I’ve had in a long time outside of our little group. I miss him, too.”

                Logan swallowed thickly, trying to smother down the tears that threatened to fall as he said, “You should have _stopped_ him.”

                “I tried!” Patton argued, his voice pitching into wounded hysteria as he said, “I stood in his way, I pushed him back!”

                Logan shook his head. “And _yet_ –”

                “He broke a _vase_ over my _head_ ,” Patton grumbled as he held a hand to his head.

                After a moment of hesitation, Logan let out a tired, amused sigh. “That does sound like something he’d do…”

                Patton nodded sadly. “So, don’t blame me for a conscious decision that Virgil made. He _chose_ to go running after you. He _chose_ to find you… and he knew what he was getting himself into.”

                “I don’t blame you,” Logan sighed as he picked up the shovel and brought it back to the shed where it belonged. Once there, he glanced up at the sky once more. A nervous orange was spreading through the skyscape, erasing the blues of nighttime and leaving Logan feeling the itching burn of sunlight seeping into the air. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he looked down at the shallow grave before him, feeling a heaviness settle into his chest as he murmured, “If anyone… I blame myself for this mess. I was the reason she snapped… _I_ was the reason –“

                “Oh, enough of that,” Roman said irritably as he stepped away from the house. He came to stand next to Logan, slapping him on the shoulder in a show of support. “You can’t blame yourself for the actions of a nutcase. Besides! The two of you are talking like Virgil is _never_ coming back.” From the doorway, Patton let out an indignant ‘hey!’ while Roman waved the complaint away. “If Logan is right –”

                “I _am_ right,” Logan said sternly.

Roman ignored him and continued as if Logan hadn’t said anything. “If Logan is right, then Virgil should be back in three days! It’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

                “I certainly hope so,” Patton sighed as he watched from the doorway, not daring to get any closer to the grave. Logan didn’t blame him. It was like he was watching his own fall from an outside view, admiring the process that took him from man to beast. He didn’t comment on Patton distance as he turned to look at the grave. Patton’s voice was a soft, mournful afterthought as he repeated, “I really… really hope so.”

+++++

_Day 2_

                Logan used a scalpel to cut the tip of his index finger that evening, letting seven drops of blood drip into Virgil’s waiting mouth before withdrawing it quickly. It was still early in the evening… hardly past nine o’clock when he unburied Virgil’s simple casket. The burial had allowed Virgil’s skin to be safe from the sunlight… and it held with traditions Logan didn’t even remember learning.

                And now, under the safe cover of moonlight, Virgil was allowed to be recovered and brought into the house where Logan could continue the ritual. Seven drops of blood… buried for three days. Was blood over the eyes necessary, or was it a story his mother simply told him? He couldn’t quite remember.

                As Logan wiped the last few remaining drops of black blood across Virgil’s closed eyes, he heard the doorbell ring. He grimaced. Who would come calling at this hour? Logan’s stomach clenched; it could have been the police. They could have discovered the match between Virgil’s blood in the warehouse and the trace amounts of blood on Amanda Cole’s corpse.

                Quickly stepping out of the body-prepping room, Logan closed and locked the door behind himself. Just a fraction of a second later, Patton descended the stairs and gave him a questioning look. Patton was just as confused as he was. No one came knocking on the door at night… people would call if they needed to arrange a funeral. Doctor’s didn’t make house-calls… especially not to them.

                Ushering Patton back up the stairs – the poor man couldn’t tell a lie to save his life – Logan instead indicated for _Roman_ to answer the door.

                “Me?” Roman asked where he cowered behind Patton. “Why _me_?”

                “Patton can’t answer the door… he’s a terrible liar. And I am still covered in dirt from unburying Virgil. I don’t need to arouse anymore suspicion than I already have,” Logan growled. “In addition, I am in _no mood_ to talk to the police.”

                Roman stood up a little straighter, sounding slightly intrigued. “The police?” he asked, his voice piqued toward crude curiosity. “I’ve always loved a man in uniform.” Patton gave him a sad look over his shoulder, and Roman was quick to say, “But no man can hold my affections more than you, my darling!”

                The doorbell rang again. Then three more times. The person at the door was getting impatient. Logan rolled his eyes and pointed at the door explicitly.

                “Get. The _door_. Roman.”

                Heaving a sigh, Roman disappeared from the stairwell and reappeared in front of the door, muttering a low and pointed, “Fine. You don’t need to get all _bossy_.” When he swung open the door, there was a _pop_ and _sizzle_ as Roman cried out and stumbled away from the doorway. When he held his hands to his face, Logan could barely understand him as he howled, “Pain! _Actual_ pain! If this didn’t hurt so much, it might actually be _satisfying_ to feel pain again! Oh, _god!_ ”

                Logan watched as Roman flickered out of existence, leaving Logan with a perfect view of the man standing in the doorway. Remy stood with a glass jar of… _something_ overturned in his hand and his sunglasses pushed down low to reveal the furious glare of his golden eyes.

                “All right bitches,” he glowered as he stepped into the mortuary and slammed the door behind him. “I’m here for answers, and anyone who gets in my way is gonna get some rock salt to the face.”

                While Logan quirked eyebrow, genuinely interested in Remy’s motivation, Roman’s hazy outline fizzled and wobbled as he fought to remain corporeal.

                “You little _bastard_!” He cried, trying to somehow fill the gaps in his physical exitance that had burned away with the rock salt. “Do you have _any_ idea how much that _hurt_?”

                “Back up ghosty,” Remy said, pulling out another pinch of salt and holding it menacingly in front of him. “I’ve got rock salt for _days_. Take one more step and I’m _burning_ your ass.”

                Immediately, Roman disappeared from the entryway and flickered back into existence behind Patton, clinging to his shoulder as if Patton could save him from the salt. At the very least… this was better than the police showing up at their door with questions they couldn’t possibly answer.

                Leisurely tucking his hands into his pockets, Logan stood calmly in front of the door of Virgil’s hideaway place, keen on keeping Remy out of it.

                “Remy,” Logan said personably, ignoring the magical, furious glow of gold in his irises as he gave him a slight inclination of his head. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

                “Where’s Virgil?” Remy asked, his tone leaving no room for debate. On the stairs, Patton and Roman gave Logan a wide-eyed look as they waited for his response.

                Logan simply dodged the question and calmly said, “I think you’ve overestimated the power of your weapon.” Remy’s glare faltered, and Logan said, “Rock salt isn’t very effective against vampires or ghouls.”

                “I don’t know,” Patton said, a small smile coming to his face as he muttered, “I’d rather not be… a-salted.”

                Roman gave him a tight-lipped smile, and Logan could almost see the pained laughter in his eyes as he whispered, “Did you… make a _joke_ … about the salt… that _burned_ me?”

                Remy ignored them, stepping forward and shouting, “Where the _hell_ is my _best friend?”_

                Leaning into Patton’s shoulder, Roman grumbled under his breath, “If Virgil is his best friend, why did it take him _so long_ to come looking for him?” Patton was quick to give Roman’s shoulder a slap as he shushed him.

                Regardless of Logan’s warning, Remy took a few pointed steps into the house, still holding his jar of rock salt in front of him as if it were a flaming torch. “I _want_ to _know_ where he is. _Now_.”

                Blinking calmly, Logan didn’t move from his place in front of the door as Remy drew closer. There was a heaviness in the air, a trembling that resonated through Remy’s frame. He was scared. Terrified of Logan and whatever he could do… their last altercation had been a warning. Now Remy was _choosing_ to clash with Logan over this.

                “Virgil is dead,” Logan said stiffly. He felt his throat constrict painfully. More tears? Mourning was such an odd experience… especially when he knew that Virgil was coming back in the end.

                Remy, however, did not know this. The crystal jar of salt slipped from his hand, shattering on the ground as his eyes lost that magical, fiery glow. They were simply wide with shock. He hadn’t known the madness that was running rampant through the town… all he knew was that his friend had stopped going to school. Poor Remy had been left in the dark to sit and wonder… Logan almost pitied him.

                But, before Logan could explain, Remy’s expression turned dark. “You… you son of a _bitch_!” Remy pulled back his fist, intent on punching Logan, but Logan stepped to the side, allowing Remy to follow-through and slam his fist into the door. This resulted in a long stream of cursing that made Patton blush, but Logan watched tiredly as Remy turned to him with venom in his voice as he spat, “I _knew_ you were gonna do something. I _knew!_ And still I… I can’t _fucking_ believe…”

                Taking a calming breath, Logan sighed, “If you’ll allow me to explain –”

                “No!” Remy shouted, flailing his arms so hard his sunglasses fell from his face. “No, you don’t get to talk! He’s dead! He’s dead and _you killed him!_ ”

                When Remy pulled back his hand to strike again, Logan moved faster. He grasped Remy’s collar and lifted him off the ground, holding him against the nearest wall as he spoke in a low, warning tone. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me what happened to Virgil. You weren’t there.”

                “Got too thirsty, babe?” Remy asked as he scratched at the hand that held him up. “I bet… bet you just… _sucked. Him. Dry.”_

                “I didn’t kill Virgil,” Logan said, still quiet and level as he spoke. “Virgil came running after me when I decided to confront the vampire that’s been terrorizing the town.”

                Remy froze, hanging in Logan’s grip like a limp doll as he thought for a moment. “He… that lady… that crazy girl that I saw that night…”

                Logan nodded. “ _She_ killed him.” His hand trembled, but not with strain… it was frustration. He shook his head at himself as he muttered, “I didn’t… have a chance to save him.”

                Remy blinked, slow and thoughtful. For the first time since they’d met, there wasn’t any smug expression on his face. There wasn’t a witty quip he had at his disposal. He was quiet… and sad. His golden eyes scanned the floor, the walls, the ceiling… anything that might help him understand what had happened. Nothing really helped him, in the end. Nothing really could.

                “Put me down,” Remy finally murmured, his voice hardly a whisper of sound. Logan hesitated, unsure of whether or not Remy was going to try to hit him again. When Logan didn’t release him, Remy gave him a soft kick. “You fuckin’ drama queen… put me down!”

                Setting him back on the floor gently, Logan watched as Remy plucked his glasses from the floor and pushed them onto his face, hiding his eyes from the world once more. The house was quiet, with Patton and Roman lingering on the stairs and Remy scratching at the lining of his leather jacket. Logan sighed; he missed Virgil. So did Remy. They all wanted him back… but it would take time.

                “Where…” Remy let out a wary sigh as he pushed his mussed, caramel-brown hair from his face. “Where uh… where is he? Did you… did you like… bury him, or…?”

                Logan faltered, but managed to say, “I’m bringing him back.”

                Remy quirked an eyebrow, and Loan could see his eyes widen a bit behind the dark lenses of his glasses. “Bringin’ him back? Like…” Remy wiggled his fingers vaguely. “All… vampire-y and shit?”

                Patton huffed on the stairs and muttered, “Such _foul_ language…”

                Logan gave that a small smile as he nodded once. “Yes, like a vampire.”

                When Remy’s brow furrowed, he lost his childish airs… he seemed more like an actual adult, pondering this topic with a stern expression and dark eyes. Logan watched as Remy took a deep, tired breath… and sighed.

                “And… you think Virgil is okay with that?” Remy asked, his eyes burning through the shaded lenses of his glasses when Logan raised his eyebrows. “This isn’t like changing up your wardrobe to impress a hot guy… this is, like, a big deal.”

                “I know,” Logan said stiffly. Did Remy think he was an idiot? Logan _was_ a vampire. He knew exactly what a vampiric life entailed.

                Blinking slowly, Remy nodded once. He looked… different from the last time Logan had seen him. His cocky, smug face was gone… and in its place was the face that loneliness had given him. It was like he’d lost a battle with himself, and was still wracked with the aftermath as he stood in front of Logan with his heart exposed and bleeding.

                “I just…” Remy caught his breath and scratched his hand through his hair. “Shit, I just… I wanted… to see him, I just…” his breath hitched, and Logan watched the familiar sight of sadness washing over Remy. Virgil’s death had caught them all off-guard… and poor Remy was a day late and a dollar short when it came to the news. He sniffed and took a shuddering breath, glancing between Logan and Patton as he whispered, “When… wh-when will he be back?”

                “It’ll be another day or so,” Patton said softly, his consoling tone more gentle than anything Logan could accomplish. Logan looked away as Patton murmured, “We’ll make sure he knows you were here.”

                “Yeah…” Remy nodded and laughed, but there wasn’t any joy in it. He simply adjusted his glasses and kicked the broken remains of his jar of rock salt. “Sorry about the, uh… ya know.”

                “Damn right you’re sorry,” Roman grumbled unhappily, only to get Patton’s elbow jabbed into his stomach. He winced and bit his tongue, disappearing upstairs to avoid the rest of the interaction.

                When Remy met Logan’s eyes, there was an odd sort of calm that lingered between the two of them as he said, “Just… just don’t… I dunno… don’t hurt him, okay? Virgil’s the only friend who… who really _knows_ what I am and… that’s a damn good thing to have these days.”

                “It’s not my goal to hurt him,” Logan said softly, his chest aching at the sight of Remy’s tears glittering behind the sheltering lenses of his glasses. “I only want to see him again. What he decides to do next is entirely up to him.”

+++++

_Day 3_

                Setting Virgil’s coffin on the display stand in the casket showroom, Logan stepped ack and admired his work. He’d wiped the dirt from the casket after unburying him, and now the wood shined in the soft, subtle light of the showroom.

                Patton sat on the sofa, his hands wringing in the air as he watched the casket lid carefully. Logan gave him an interesting look for that. Did he think Virgil would bust out of the coffin with a fit of anger and fire? No… no, the process of changing was never so violent. It wasn’t like the process of making a ghoul… it was quiet. Soft, and slow. Like the rotation of the earth, so soft that no one could sense it.

                That was what it meant to Logan, at least. The careful placing of the body in a coffin… the reverent measuring of blood, and the mindful brush of blood across the eyelids… each step was a gentle one. Each one served a purpose. A set path in the change… and now, on the third night, after the blood was given time to settle in Virgil’s system… as the cold, fresh soil of the earth had reclaimed the life that was once his… Logan stood over his coffin with a hesitant frown.

                “It’s quiet,” Roman said where he stood against the wall, watching the casket. He peeked past the curtains, glancing at the crescent mood with an unimpressed expression. “The moon is out… it’s been three days… but it’s quiet.” Waving at Virgil’s coffin, Roman managed to catch Logan’s eye as he asked, “Is it… _supposed_ to be quiet?”

                Logan grimaced and looked away. “I don’t know.”

                On the sofa, Patton stiffened, his hands still hanging in the air as he looked at Logan with wide-eyed disbelief. “You… you don’t know? How… how are we supposed to be sure he’ll wake up? What if… what if he _doesn’t_ wake up?”

                “He will,” Logan snapped over his shoulder, only to stop and glance at the coffin once more. Silence settled over the showroom. All three men were discomforted at the lack of sound, and Logan softly murmured, “He _should_.”

                “Well,” Roman sniffed haughtily as he fell onto the sofa next to Patton. “There’s only one way to find out. Crack ‘em open, Monsieur Misérable.” Logan and Patton gave Roman a sharp look, and Roman gave an innocent shrug as he muttered, “What? I’m tired of seeing that depressed face moping around.”

                As much as Logan regretted it, Roman was right… he’d been silent and stewing in his thoughts for the last three days. No matter what kind of front he put on, no matter how many times he said that the process of changing would work, he was still afraid. He’d never changed someone before. He had lore, stories, and traditions to guide him… but that was no guarantee it would work.

                Ignoring the way Patton fretted on the sofa, Logan took a deep breath… and unclasped the lid of the casket. There was no reaction. To sign that pointed to Virgil being conscious. Logan felt sick; if Virgil was gone, what could he do? Mope the loss of one life for the rest of eternity? That was no way to live… how could falling in love mean so much danger? Wasn’t love supposed to be a good thing?

                No one had prepared Logan for the risk that came with love… and now he regretted ever falling.

                Undoing the other clasps on the edge of the casket, Logan heard the satisfying _pop_ of the seal being broken on the casket. Air rushed in… and nothing came out. On the sofa, Patton and Roman held still, watching with baited breath as Logan slowly and carefully opened the casket and let the light bathe in the interior.

                There was a flinch. A brief, uncomfortable moment where the light washed over his face... and Logan watched as Virgil lifted a hand to shield his face from the light. He moved. He made a disgruntled face. And, as Logan watched, breathless and in awe, Virgil let out a low, irritated growl as he shifted against the lining of the coffin.

                “Wha… what…” Virgil managed to mumble as he squinted at his surroundings.

                He looked lost… and dizzy. That wasn’t a surprise. Logan assumed there would be some confusion at first… but he didn’t expect Virgil to be so… well, coherent. Perhaps some part of Logan had expected the process to go wrong. Perhaps he was awaiting his own demise… but it hadn’t come. Virgil was awake… alert and slowly taking in his current condition as he slowly sat up.

                When Virgil’s gray eyes managed to focus on Logan, his brow furrowed. “Are… are we dead?” his hands slowly traced the outside lip of the casket, looking down at his clothing with skepticism. “Is… is this heaven?” Logan blinked, feeling a surge of… _something_ … in his chest as he smiled. Virgil looked away from him, seeing Patton and Roman on the sofa. “Wait, wait… why… why are Patton and Roman here?”

                Roman arched an eyebrow. “ _Rude_. We’re here for emotional support.”

                Virgil made a puzzled face. “But… why would we need support if we’re all dead?”

                Roman didn’t answer that, and Patton was too busy sniffling and wiping away relieved tears to say anything. Logan cleared his throat, trying to force his brain into speech. He needed to explain… the repercussions of being changed were vast… and he had to make them clear.

                “Virgil,” Logan said softly, watching the way Virgil’s eyes slowly slid over to him. “We’re not dead.”

                “Excuse me,” Roman raised his hand. “I _am_. You’re not.”

                Virgil blinked sluggishly, his eyes sinking down to look at his legs. Tired and confused… still not quite sure what… or _how_ things had turned out the way they had. For a moment, recognition flickered in his eyes; realization that something… _something_ … had gone terribly wrong. He looked up, meeting Logan’s gaze with wide alarmed eyes.

                “Annaliese,” he said. His hand flew to his throat, feeling for the torn skin and gaping hole Annaliese’s claws had ripped into him… but there was nothing but smooth skin. Vampiric blood had a habit of healing wounds quickly… even the wounds of the dead. Even so, Virgil felt the column of his throat, swallowing thickly as he looked around the room, his startling realization finally sinking in. “B-but she… she…” he looked to Logan. Scared and unsure. Logan’s chest ached, but he didn’t speak. “How… how am I…” he stopped, and Logan saw that familiar, damning recognition. “You changed me.”

                Logan’s hand lingered heavily on the edge of the casket, not daring to look away from Virgil’s gray eyes. It might be the last time Virgil was willing to look at him. Logan had to memorize this moment… let the glimmer of his eyes sink in until the last possible second.

                After a moment, Logan managed to find his tongue. “Yes,” he sighed, feeling the tension in the room hang like a living thing in the air. “Yes, I did.”

                Patton and Roman were silent, waiting for Virgil’s backlash… but the silence remained. Heavy. Uncomfortable. Like the sensation someone is watching… when the room should be empty. Like stepping through the dark and missing that last step on the stairs. Like the sick sensation of falling through open air… frightening… heavy and weightless all at once.

                Grasping at the edge of the coffin, Virgil swung his legs over the edge and clambered over the side until he was standing on solid ground. Logan almost offered a hand, but Virgil was up and shuffling across the floor on his own within seconds. He looked thoughtful… almost distraught in some way. Logan couldn’t blame him. He had no right to.

                “How long?” Virgil asked, his voice startling Logan from his thoughts. He looked at Virgil, seeing a faraway glint in his eye. “How long was I out?”

                “Just over three days,” Patton managed to breathe, still wiping furiously at the tears running down his face. He smiled shakily at Virgil, more tears rolling down his cheeks as he blubbered, “I’m so… so glad you’re back. I’m… I’m so happy…!”

                Before anyone could say anything, Patton was up and off the sofa, wrapping Virgil in a tight embrace that looked like it could’ve shattered every bone in his body. Logan felt a pang of jealousy; he wanted to hold Virgil like that. He wanted to express his relieve and joy that the changing actually _worked_. But he couldn’t… not quite yet. He had to read the room… even though he wasn’t an expert in reading the atmosphere. He’d slowly been getting better at it, with Virgil’s help… but Virgil wasn’t at his disposal this time. Logan was on his own.

                When Virgil managed to pry himself from Patton’s arms and give him an anxious smile, he looked down at his own hands. “This… this is big.”

                Across the room, Roman snorted. “What is? Your hands? They’re actually quite small…”

                Virgil glared at him before shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. Logan had buried him in that one because it was Virgil’s favorite… it was also the softest one. Virgil probably didn’t notice the choice in garment. He simply started to shuffle around the room.

                “No, this… this whole thing. I mean… I’m dead. But not. Undead?” He paused, then gave Logan an awe-struck look. “Holy shit… is _that_ where that word came from?”

                Logan blinked spastically. “I believe… the term undead came from phenomena and folklore.”

                Waving that statement away, Virgil started to pace again. “That’s chill, but… I’m not human anymore. I’m… I’m a vampire.” He paused, then looked at Logan again. “I _am_ a vampire, right?”

                Again, Logan blinked. How was he so calm? How was he so accepting? “Y-yes. You are.”

                Pushing his hand through his hair restlessly, Virgil let out a shaky sigh. “Well… now what do I do? I’m… I’m going to have to drop my classes. I can’t go during the day and it’s too late to switch.” His pacing halted, and he looked straight at the wall with wide eyes as he whispered, “I’m… I’m probably gonna have to just… drop out. I can’t go to school. Can’t finish my degree… and that means I’ll have to leave the dorms.” He looked around the room frantically. “And… and go where?”

                “Here!” Patton said readily, hardly able to contain his excitement as Roman visibly had to hold him back. “Stay here! We’d… we’d be so happy to have you!”

                Virgil looked almost sad when he said, “And do what? Mooch off you guys? I… I’ll need to get a job… contribute to society…” he raked his hand through his hair again, mussing the fading purple locks as he fidgeted restlessly. “B-but… what kind of night job can I get… that pays enough? I… I don’t…”

                Without finishing his statement, Virgil collapsed onto the sofa, holding his head in his hands as he let out a long, tired groan. Still leaning against the side of the casket, Logan shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly. Virgil was in distress, that was clear… but what could be done to fix it? Promise him that he’ll find a job easily? That was never true. Especially in the current economic state of America. Logan frowned and stepped away from the coffin, coming to stand by the sofa while Virgil started bounce his leg anxiously.

                “I’m sorry, Virgil,” Logan said softly, his voice sounding oddly loud in the room as he took a seat next to the younger man. Virgil didn’t left his head, but Logan could feel the weight of his sideways stare as he said, “I… I wasn’t thinking of the repercussions this would have on you… or your academic career.”

                Virgil let out another sigh. “It’s… fine… I mean, there’s always like… online classes or whatever…”

                “That’s not all that will change for you,” Logan said stiffly. Now, Virgil actually lifted his head, giving Logan a long, hard look. Logan didn’t dare to meet his eye. Instead, he chose to stare at the wall as he spoke. “Your diet will have to be altered to accommodate a need for blood. As a changed human, you can still indulge in human food… but not very often. You will no longer be able to go out in the sun. You will need to change your sleeping habits to align your body’s natural rhythms of nocturnal REM cycles. You will –”

                “Logan, buddy… I get it,” Virgil said with a laugh in his voice. “Not to be a know-it-all, but… pretty much every shitty teenage book I’ve read has prepared me for the… uh… diet change.”

                Giving him a startled look, Logan abruptly stood up. “You… you _don’t_ understand. This is your entire _life_ I’ve changed. You are no longer human.”

                Virgil nodded. “Yeah… I get that.”

                “You are a nether creature!” Logan said, clearly exasperated. “You will _never_ be able to live as a human again!”

                “I _know_ that.”

                Taking a step back, Logan looked to Roman and Patton for assistance. To his chagrin, they merely looked confused. Couldn’t they see what he was trying to say? They knew how angry Virgil _should_ have been… so why wasn’t he?

                “I brought you back for my own selfish needs,” Logan emphasized, tapping his chest as if to solidify the statement. “I didn’t think about what you’d what… I just wanted you back. It was an impulsive, reckless decision and you should be _furious_ with me.”

                Virgil’s brow furrowed. “You… you _want_ me to be mad?”

                Logan faltered. What? He hadn’t said that. “N-no! That’s what _you_ should want.”

                Virgil’s eyes narrowed, and he slowly muttered, “I… should _want_ … _you_ to want… me… to be _mad_ … at _you_.”

                Throwing his hands into the air, Logan stomped his foot and indicated at Virgil with a wild gesture of his hand. “I want you _so damn much_ , I twisted the very fabric of your existence for my own selfish gain!”

                Looking around the room awkwardly, Virgil shifted in his seat. “Thank… you?”

                “ _No_!” Logan growled. This conversation was going nowhere. Virgil didn’t understand. If he _did_ , he would’ve condemned Logan by now.

                Slipping out of the house, Logan chose to stalk through the cemetery, letting the crescent moon light his way with dim, wispy columns of light through the clouds. Behind him, he heard the front door open and shut gently. Not Roman… not Patton… Virgil had followed him.

                At this point, it would have been ridiculous to be surprised by this outcome. Virgil had followed him multiple times before. He had few doubts that Virgil would follow anywhere, if given the chance… something about that tugged at Logan’s heartstrings, and he felt a little nostalgic.

                He came to a stop at the edge of the cemetery fence, watching the midnight mist roll in from the trees and paint the grass in gray and white. It was a cold, lonely sight. One that left him feeling sad… where it not for Virgil’s presence lingering in his periphery.

                “It’s… so clear,” Virgil breathed softly in the cold air. Logan turned to see him standing next to a weeping angel with wide, amazed eyes. “It’s dark out here… isn’t it? But… I can see everything.” He paused, then looked to Logan with those wonder-filled eyes. And then… he smiled. “I can see _everything_.”

                Logan felt tears prickle at his eyes. But why? Why was he upset? He felt a warm, tight sensation in his chest. A glow that was similar to relief… but the tears were a confusing addition. He felt like shouting. Like crying. Like wrapping Virgil up in his arms and never letting go.

                What was this?

                “Logan,” Virgil said, his breath clouding in the autumn air. “I… I’m not mad. Not about what you did… or why you did it.”

                Logan frowned and took a shuddering breath, hardly able to smooth the quake in his voice as he said, “You should be.”

                “I know,” Virgil said as he rubbed his upper arm tiredly. “This… this is a big thing. I’m… not who I used to be…” He held a hand over his breast for a moment, listening to the silence that echoed sadly in his chest. “Not having a heartbeat is… weird. And it’ll be confusing for a while, but… I’m… honestly relieved.”

                “Relieved?” Logan echoed owlishly. “How?”

                Virgil’s smile was sad as he looked up at Logan. “I… I didn’t want things to end like that. I didn’t… I didn’t want you to be on your own. I didn’t want you to die like that. So… I ran in. Sure, it was stupid as all hell and… and it wasn’t helpful… but I didn’t want it to end like that.” Logan’s throat tightened with emotion, but he held his ground as Virgil stepped a bit closer. His voice was soft as he reached up and grabbed Logan’s necktie, his fingers dragging down its silk length as he murmured, “I didn’t… I didn’t want to go. Not like that.”

                “I…” Logan swallowed thickly. “I didn’t want to lose you,” he hardly managed to say it before his vision blurred, He reached up to remove his glasses, searching for the smudge on the lenses, only to blink and feel tears run down his cheeks, warm and startling. Virgil brushed at them with his thumb, wiping them away with a smile as Logan managed to sputter, “I didn’t… didn’t want to let you go.” Virgil smiled, breathing a laugh that fogged the air and made Logan’s chest ache. “I didn’t…! I didn’t want to lose you, I… I love you, Virgil,” he blubbered the words without knowing their meaning. He spouted them on repeat, feeling more sure of the emotion behind the word as Virgil wiped away his tears. “I love you, Virgil. I love you, I… I love –”

                Virgil kissed him. That same, warm kiss he’d come to know so well. The kind that made his lips tingle and his mind race, however brief. Virgil pulled away, and Logan caught his breath as he wiped at his tears pathetically. He continued to repeat himself, not entirely aware of what he was saying… but letting the words fall out anyway. It almost felt like a floodgate had been opened, and all the words he’d left unsaid were spilling out, meeting Virgil halfway.

                “I know,” Virgil said so many times, his voice so soft. His tone so much older than he was. “I know.”

                He held Logan; they were desperate embraces, ones that Logan didn’t restrain himself in. He used his inhuman strength, clutching Virgil as tightly as he could as he sobbed into his shoulder. Virgil took the embrace easily, unfazed by the strength. He was, after all, a vampire as well… his body had changed. He was stronger, too. But he still held Logan the same way. He still kissed him softly, whenever Logan lifted his head. He still murmured soft words to him in the dark. He was different… but the same.

                “I love you, too,” Virgil whispered to him, so gentle, Logan might’ve thought he’d dreamt it. “I love you, too.”

+++++

                Virgil laid back on their bed, leisurely texting Remy as the full moon hung drunkenly in the sky. Logan was at the mirror, adjusting his tie while Virgil _tap, tap, tapped_ at his phone. It was a late autumn day. All Hallows’ Eve was upon them, and with that, came many, many children in the threes.

                That only made their objective harder. They were still trying to wrangle in the last of the ghouls that Annaliese had managed to change… but it was progressing nicely. Some had simply died on their own; if they couldn’t change back into a human form, they’d simply burned to death in the sun. This took three ghouls out of the picture. Let left two ghouls unaccounted for.

                Logan and Virgil had managed to find one of them prowling around the low-town lake… but after two days of not being able to change back into a human, they were forced to put the ghoul out of its misery. Whoever they had been… would forever remain missing. Even so, Virgil didn’t give up hope. There was always another chance. There was always another ghoul. And there was always… another life to save.

                “Remy says his uncle hasn’t seen anything lately… I guess that means downtown is safe,” Virgil muttered as he pecked at the screen. “So… does that mean we get to play uptown?”

                “It appears so,” Logan said as he adjusted his glasses and turned to look at his partner. The purchase of a king-sized bed had been a smart one. They had definitely used it enough to verify its value. He sat on the edge of the bed and glanced at the window. He could see the vague outline of flashlights in the streets; either children or partygoers were out and about. They would be prime bait for a ghoul. “We should leave soon.”

                Logan startled when Virgil’s cold foot nudged his back, and he gave Virgil an unimpressed look. Virgil only grinned deviously, his fangs sharp and dangerous as he said, “What? You in a hurry, big guy?”

                Rolling his eyes at that, Logan crawled up the bed until he could pluck Virgil’s phone from his hand and set it aside. Ducking his head, he managed to sneak a kiss to Virgil’s neck before he murmured, “I’d rather not have any more unexplained deaths in the papers.”

                Virgil threw his arms around Logan’s neck and held him in place, whispering, “Can’t the ghouls wait for one night? It’s Halloween… let’s get _spooky_.”

                Abruptly, Logan was flipped onto his back and his glasses were knocked askew. He tried to give Virgil a displeased look, but the uptick of the corner of his lips gave him away. Virgil loomed over him with a smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips… then his chin… then his chest… then lower…

                “Boys!” Patton called, knocking on the door a few times. “If you’re heading out, you should do it now… the street is clear and I don’t think anyone would notice you leaving!”

                Virgil froze where he was, and Logan’s eyes snapped open. When had they closed? No matter… they had a job to do. He sat up and gave Virgil a knowing quirk of his eyebrow. Virgil merely sulked.

                “I’m gonna have a talk with Patton about being such a goddamn cock-block,” he growled, but the glint in his eyes suggested he wasn’t actually going to do anything.

                Logan blinked tiredly and pushed Virgil off of him, smoothing the wrinkles in his shirt as he said, “I think our sex-life is rousing enough… another night of abstinence won’t harm you.”

                Dragging Virgil out the door was one thing… managing to get him past Patton was another. He fussed over Virgil’s clothing, his expression, the laces of his shoes… if Patton wasn’t naturally a mother-hen, Logan might assume he was sick. Nonetheless, with enough of Virgil insisting he was fine, they made it out of the house unmolested.

                Over their slow, idle days together, Logan had learned new things about Virgil. He enjoyed holding hands… particularly when they were alone. So, it didn’t surprise him when Virgil took his hand as they headed toward uptown, watching the tree line as they went. He’d also learned that, even as a vampire, Virgil still enjoyed cuddling while he slept. This was a comforting thing for Logan… the absence of a coffin left him feeling… exposed. Curling up with Virgil made him feel safer, somehow. Virgil still spoke in his low, sarcastic manner. He still exchanged irritated, witty banter with Roman… and he still laughed and joked with Patton. There were new things… and things that made Logan’s heart fwarm with nostalgia. All in all, their current living situation was an oddly domestic scene.

                A life… or rather, an afterlife with Virgil was better than most anything he’d ever experienced. He itched for the intimacy that came from Virgil’s soft, sensuous whispers in the small hours of the morning. He loved the long, stretches of day where they would fall asleep in each other’s arms, ignoring the sun, high in the sky. He even enjoyed working with Virgil in the mortuary, teaching him how to prep the bodies for embalmment… and how to drain the blood for their personal use.

                And, though it was new… Logan was thoroughly enjoying it. Domesticity, as it were.

                Light and easy… he was understanding the way he mother felt about his father. He understood the way Patton felt about Roman. The desperate, aching desire to love… and be loved. It was unbecoming. It was sad and despairing… but it was something that wouldn’t give up for anything else.

                He wouldn’t give up _Virgil_ … for anything.

                “It’s quiet,” Virgil murmured as they pasted the nicely manicured lawns that glowed with Halloween ornaments. Logan snapped out of his thoughts and took a sharp breath.

                “Yes, I suppose…”

In truth, things were bursting with sound. Children were screaming with laughter, shouting ‘Trick or Treat’ at the top of their lungs. Strangers speaking in tired, harried voices, and parents reigning in a gaggle of wandering children. It was far from quiet… but Logan knew what he was talking about. There was an unease in the air. The kind that made the birds go quiet in the trees, and the wind hold its breath.

                Virgil squeezed his hand and glanced toward the dark line of trees behind the cookie-cutter houses around them. “There’s probably one around here.”

                Logan took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the subtle scent of something rotten… like flesh, just before its burned. Meat just before it turns… a metallic, earth scent… the scent of a ghoul. “Most likely.”

                Virgil turned to him with a glint in his eye, and Logan quirked an eyebrow. He nodded his head toward the trees and dropped Logan’s hand.

                “Race you for it.”

                And with that, he was gone, leaving Logan slightly breathless and absolutely lovestruck. This was ridiculous… this feeling. This… emotion. Whatever it wanted to be called. He didn’t care. He glanced back over his shoulder, making sure no one saw them dart away from the sidewalks and into the trees. The children were being corralled away… lights were starting to go out… it was the perfect time to slip away.

                So, he ran for the trees, following the sound of Virgil’s excited breathing and the subtle flit of his feet on the forest floor. Whether Logan liked it or not, Virgil was a natural at adapting to his new assets; he enjoyed the new speed… and _thoroughly_ enjoyed being able to sleep with Logan during the day. It had taken time for him to adjust to his strength, but with time, it seemed like he was born to live the life of a nether creature.

                Whether that was Virgil’s personality or simply the overwhelming pressures of society caving in… that was left for debate.

                Coming to a stop somewhere between the uptown homes and the northbound highway, Logan held still and listened. He could hear the lumbering, disjointed sound of a ghoul tramping through the forest… then there was Virgil, sneaking through the underbrush with keen intent. He had to admit… having Virgil at his side made hunting ghouls much easier. With his eyes keeping him at a slight disadvantage, Virgil was his crutch in the dark, helping him find his way when his eyes failed him.

                Rushing for Virgil as quickly as he could, Logan crept around the arc of the ghoul, keeping to the blind spots he knew of… the faster they took care of this, the better. If they could take down the ghoul before it made it to the edge of the trees, it would be an added bonus.

                Placing a hand on Virgil’s back as he approached, Logan knelt down in the grass and watched the hulking shape of a ghoul ripping through the dirt restlessly. “You take the right,” he murmured softly, but loud enough that the ghoul paused and turned to them. “I’ll take the left.”

                Feeling the tension in his muscles burn, Logan waited for Virgil to dart forward, taking to the right of the ghoul while Logan pushed himself up and forward. The ghoul was immediately overwhelmed, snapping and clawing in confusion while Vigil took its right arm and gave it a brutal punch. The gut-wrenching _crack_ echoed off the trees, but before the creature could howl in pain, Logan swept around its left, wrapped an arm around its neck… and squeezed.

                When it choked on its own cry of pain, it panicked, flailing wildly as Logan fought to keep his hold on the beast. It thrashed, still frantic, and Virgil had to stumble back, falling into the decomposing leaves of the forest as the ghoul slowly, agonizingly, slipped into unconsciousness.

                Once it stopped struggling, Logan released his hold, letting the heavy mass of the ghoul hit the ground with a _thud_. He looked to Virgil, seeing a bemused, cocky smile on his face. Even in the dark, Logan could see it.

                “I found it first,” Virgil said with an intonation that almost sounded victorious. Logan frowned; was he going to become as prideful as Roman? If so, Logan would have to adjust for it.

                Adjusting his glasses, Logan sniffed haughtily. “Yes. But _I’m_ the one that took it down, didn’t I?”

                Without warning, Virgil sprung from his place on the ground, pushing Logan back and down into the damp, rotting leaves. It was disgusting... and surely, Virgil knew this. But he was too busy laughing at the disgruntled expression on Logan’s face.

                “Is this…” Logan paused, and squirmed a bit in the leaves. “Is this _really_ an appropriate time to be rolling around on the forest floor?”

                Huffing another laugh, Virgil rolled his eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, nerd.”

                And Logan did. Long, soft and sweet… along with one gentle, short kiss. A promise for later. They had a ghoul to take care of first, after all. Sitting himself up – the leaves had made the back of his shirt damp, much to his displeasure – Logan gave the ghoul a knowing look.

                It would either end one of two ways… they _could_ have a ghoul that transformed back into a person. That would make Patton happy. Or… they could have a ghoul that remained a ghoul for the rest of its cursed life. That would make Patton very, very depressed. Unsurprisingly, Logan and Virgil both wanted the easier outcome. The outcome that ended with Patton smiling and letting out a relieved sigh.

                So, with little effort, Logan lifted the ghoul onto his shoulder and had Virgil lead the way with his superior eyes. Surely, they would’ve gotten home faster if it weren’t for the trick-or-treaters. They had to wait until a group scurried past… they needed to pause to make sure no one was on the street… a waiting game that was driving Logan past the point of irritation and into the realm of agitated anger.

                “Almost there,” Virgil would promise every now and then as they slunk through the trees on the edge of town. “Almost home.”

                Logan clung to those little promises, watching the lights of the houses carefully. Jack-o-lanterns lit the stairs and front doors of homes, and every so often, they would be snuffed out by the oncoming winter wind. Virgil lead him through his litter of lights, keeping to the shadows as if he’d lived in them his entire life. Logan narrowed his eyes; maybe he _had._ Virgil kept to himself, for the most part… his only friend outside of their group was Remy. He was used to hiding away… he was used to living on the outskirts of society. Unattached… unharmed.

                Logan let that thought settle in his mind as they crossed the street to the mortuary, shuffling their way inside the house with little to do as Logan dropped the ghoul onto the floor. In the living room, Patton let out a startled squeak as he darted into the hallway, paused, and gave the ghoul a baffled look.

                “That… that was… _fast_ ,” Patton murmured, his eyes still glued to the ghoul.

                “Surprise!” Virgil droned as he kicked the front door shut. “We got you a Halloween present.”

                Patton let out a breathless laugh, almost sounding dizzy as he said, “I… I can see that! It’s… it’s not dead, is it?”

                “Unconscious,” Logan sighed as he rolled his shoulders and felt the gratifying _crack_ and _pop_ of his tired joints. “We need to see if it changes back in the morning.”

                Patton practically _glowed_ when he smiled and stooped down to pat the ghoul fondly. “I like this new system of… waiting and seeing.” He was quiet when he said, “I like it more than just killing them or eating them.”

                “Good,” Logan sighed, watching as Patton hoisted the ghoul onto his shoulder and bounced toward the cellar stairs happily.

                It was a use of time, of course. It could potentially be a waste… but, what if it wasn’t? Virgil’s life… his humanity… it had opened Logan’s eyes to an empathy he didn’t know existed within himself. He wanted to keep more deaths from happening… if not for himself, then for the others that would have to mourn them.

                Logan frowned. When had he become sentimental? When had things changed so drastically… so completely? Was it his relationship with Virgil? Or had it before that?

                Perhaps it had started the day he found Virgil climbing the cemetery fence. Those short months ago in the dead heat of a summer night… where fog la heavy on the lowlands and mist rolled in from the seas. It had started then, just a small thing. A flicker of emotion. A flare of light. Warmth incarnate. It had started there, in the low light of the cemetery.

                Where life and death collide.

+++++

_Epilogue_

                Logan stood in the stairwell, watching carefully as the shape of a human was illuminated by the cellar light. The boy was shivering, naked and terrified as he winced and shied away from the light. Logan quirked an eyebrow; he was aware of his surroundings. This was, at the very least, better than Amanda Cole. In addition, he’d managed to regain human form.

                The boy swallowed anxiously before sputtering, “Wh-where am I? Who are you people? What… what _happened_ to me?”

                Logan’s eyes went wide. He was coherent. Able to speak. Was this ghoul on par with Patton’s abilities? It remained to be seen. Even so, Patton squeaked and retrieved a blanket from the living room.

                “Oh, you poor thing!” Patton said as he slipped down the stairs. He wrapped up the boy in the blanket, practically swaddling him as he rubbed his shoulders. “I know… I know this is scary… but you’re not alone. I know _exactly_ what you’re going through.”

                Next to Logan, Virgil leaned heavily against the doorway, murmuring, “I’ve seen him at school… he’s a theater kid, I think.”

                Logan frowned; another college student. Another family that would have to be roped into the nether-world… or, in a worst-case scenario, avoided entirely. Logan was still on the fence, and even with Virgil under his arm, leaning into him supportively, Logan wasn’t sure what to think.

                “Theater?” Roman said, flickering into existence on the foot of the stairs. He leaned his chin into his palm and grinned. “I like him already!”

                The boy, startled by Roman’s appearance, shied away from him and leaned into Patton. Patton happily hugged him closer, patting his arms comfortingly.

                “There, there,” Patton cooed gently. “Roman won’t hurt you… he’s a good spirit.”

                “Wraith,” Roman corrected without any malice. “But please, do go on, my angel.”

                Patton flushed at the term of endearment – Logan rolled his eyes at it – but turned back to the boy with a flustered smile. “I’m… I’m Patton. Patton Jenkins. And this is my partner, Roman.”

                He indicated to Roman, who gave the boy another smile. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

                Again, Logan rolled his eyes. “I’m Logan Stein. The owner of this mortuary.”

                Virgil leaned against Logan a little more, pressing a hand to Logan’s chest as if to stake a claim to Logan’s person. “I’m Virgil… I’m Logan’s partner here at the mortuary… and also his boyfriend.”

                Logan’s eye twitched; he _hated_ that word. Boyfriend. It was so… juvenile. Maybe he wanted something else… perhaps he should _marry_ Virgil. That would make him Virgil’s husband. Husband had a much nicer ring to it. But that was aside the point.

                Patton was talking again, giving the stranger a slight clue as to what happened to him. The poor boy looked a little green… almost like he knew _exactly_ what happened, and didn’t want to relive it. After a bit of explaining, Patton managed to get the boy up onto his feet, and he clutched the blanket desperately. No surprise there… it was cold in the cellar. The poor boy had to be freezing. Even so, there was a pressing question at hand. One that even Patton couldn’t miss.

                After a moment of hesitation, Patton placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He gave Patton a scared, confused look, and Patton merely smiled… and gently asked, “Do… do you remember your name? Who you used to be?”

                The boy thought, his eyes going a little hazy before he glanced up… and met Patton’s eye.

                “Thomas,” he said, his eyes glimmering in the low light. “My name… is Thomas.”

**\+ END +**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost sad to see the story come to a close... but all good things must end.  
> I want to give a big thank you to everyone that's stuck with the story until the bitter end!  
> All of the love and support has meant so much to me. Thank you, thank you!
> 
> A special thank you to Tess, who plans on cosplaying Vampire Logan for Halloween. You can see her tumblr profile here: [LINK](https://pendulumtess.tumblr.com/) She's a wonderful Logan cosplayer, so please check her out.  
>   
> And a special thank you to Olli, who assisted with research and survived my wacky antics. Thank you, dear!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!  
> I hope you see you again in another story.


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